Sleeping Beauty II: Taken
by Craft Rose
Summary: 5 years have gone by, and Hermione and Draco are now the proud parents of a beautiful little girl. It seems the only concern in their lives is protecting their bundle of joy and in Draco's case, reigniting the spark that had once consumed them ...and then tragedy strikes, forcing them to work together in order to find the one thing neither can live without: their daughter.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hey, guys! This is the prologue, clearly haha. Please tell me what you think! **

"Daddy!"

Mr. Draco Malfoy turned on his heel, smiling as he knelt down to meet his daughter's extended arms in an embrace. It had been a long time since he found out he was going to be a father. Five years, to be exact. In that time, he had managed to earn a position within the Ministry of Magic, specifically the Auror Department, purchase the exact villa he'd been hiding in all those years ago, marry the woman of his dreams …and only a short year after their wedding, file for divorce.

Draco lifted his daughter into his arms and spun her around in a circle, smiling and laughing with her in the middle of the Ministry, beside the golden fountain. "Cissy!" he cried out, in pure joy. It had been weeks since he'd last seen his daughter, as per the custody agreement. "Tell me then. What have you been up to?"

His daughter, named after his late mother Narcissa Malfoy, kissed him on the cheek and clapped her hands together. She was the perfect mixture of her parents. She had wild, curly hair like her mum, but it was blond like her dad. She loved learning and adventure like her mum, but had a knack for mischief like her dad. Her eyes were also a hazel colour. A combination of her mum's bronze eyes and her dad's silvery eyes. She was cute as button and loved to stick her nose where it didn't belong, like both her parents.

"I'm going to take flying lessons!" she rejoiced, wobbling about as Draco set her down. "I want to fly on a broomstick like you and Uncle Ron!"

Her father chuckled, directing them to a nearby bench and plopping her beside him. "Sounds brilliant," he smiled. "But does your mum know about these lessons?"

Cissy flashed him an innocent grin, bearing all her baby teeth. "She said I could do it if I keep my room tidy."

"Better listen then," he advised, tapping the point of her nose with one finger. "Don't cross your mother."

"Will you and mum ever get back together?" she asked, channeling that same bookish curiosity.

Draco couldn't help but smile. There was so much of his ex-wife in their daughter. In the way she smiled. In the way she laughed. In the way she buried her nose into books, even though she had just barely learned to read. It was all very heart warming. It made him wish he could be around more, but his job as an Auror had him traveling all over the place.

"Your mother has a boyfriend," he reminded her, trying his absolute best not to sound too bitter. He had to set a good example for their daughter. "Remember?"

Cissy frowned. "But I don't like Teddy!"

"_Theodore _is an old friend of mine from school, and he's a good man to your mum." Draco reminded himself of these facts all the bloody time. "You're in good hands with him. You have my word, Cissy."

She maintained her frown, as stubborn as both her parents and then some. "I wish we could all live together and I wish we could have Christmas together and I wish you didn't have to work so much and I wish mum would stop kissing Teddy when she should be kissing you and I wish –"

"_Cissy_," Draco warned, using his authoritative tone, even though he agreed with half of what his daughter was saying. "Be a good girl."

Cissy scrunched her mouth to the side, folded her arms and nodded. "Yes, _dad_."

He fought the urge to laugh again, getting a forecast into what it would be like when his daughter reached her dreaded teenaged years. But there was still plenty of time until then, plenty of time for him to win her mother back and make their family whole again. In the mean time, he had arranged to spend the weekend with his energetic offspring.

Draco lifted her into his arms once more, and just like that …her frown was gone. It was that easy, and it had once been that easy with Hermione, but things had changed since the beginning stages of their romance. He had changed. She had changed. They drifted apart, as many couples do, and were forced to put on brave faces for their daughter. It was all for their daughter, the only link in their lives. It was all for Cissy.

"Oh – I forgot to ask." Draco set her down and retrieved something from the inner pocket of his blazer. It was a wedding invitation. "Daddy is a very busy person and hasn't been able to secure a date for Uncle Ron and Aunt Gemma's wedding this Sunday," he explained. "Would you be so kind as to accompany your father on this joyous occasion?"

Cissy snorted with laughter. "I can't be your date! I'm your daughter!"

"Says who?" he asked, feigning shock. "I thought you were a pretty girl in the Ministry, waiting for Prince Charming to come sweep you off your tiny feet."

She smiled bashfully and then straightened her posture. "Mum says it's not good to wait for Prince Charming. Mum says girls can do things all on our own."

"Mum's right," he agreed. "But sometimes it's nice to sit back and give someone else the chance to make you smile …because who knows? They could very well be the person who keeps you smiling for the rest of your life."

His daughter's eyes brightened, as she thought of all the prospects in love and romance …and then the light slowly flickered. She wore a solemn expression, much too solemn for someone so young. "Daddy?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Will you ever meet someone who keeps you smiling for the rest of your life?"

Draco sighed, stretching one side of his mouth into a smile. "I already have," he told her, brushing their noses together. "Her name is Cissy."

**A/N: Hope you liked it! There will more to come, so long as you're all interested enough. Without giving too much away, the possible sequel will be a cross between the film "Taken" and the classic tale "Little Red Riding Hood."**

**P.S. have faith in dramione! :) **

**Cheers**

**xo.**


	2. Paper Lanterns and Tapestries

**Enjoy!**

The venue was gorgeous. There were paper lanterns and fairy lights dancing all across the top, illuminating the outdoor setting in a sensual, romantic glow. The guests chatted and socialized, discussing the unexpected pairing of Ron Weasley and his new wife. There weren't many people in attendance that understood the story behind Gemma – but Hermione happened to be among the few that did. She entered through the arched walkway and gazed up at all the lights and decoration. It looked something like the last wedding reception she'd been to.

"Thinking about something?" Theo asked, offering her one of his rare, yet comforting smiles as they walked hand in hand.

Hermione returned his smile, ignoring the strange nervousness building in her lower abdomen. "The wedding planner did an amazing job," she remarked. "These arrangements are beautiful."

She had started dating Theodore Nott around one year ago. He was a good man. He was an honest man. He was one of the few survivors from the Battle of Hogwarts. It was nice being around someone from the past, someone who understood her sacrifices and her losses. They had met roughly fourteen months ago, at a charity banquet for house-elves organized by Hermione. It shocked her that anyone managed to attend at all, let alone a former classmate. She had never really thought much about Nott whilst they were in school together, but meeting him again after going through her divorce certainly sparked something inside the woman.

He didn't look at her and think _Malfoy's ex-wife_, like all the others. He didn't tip toe around her, fearing what her hugely successful husband would do. He didn't regard her with coldness or with superiority. He simply spoke to her and asked if she would be interested in chatting over coffee or dinner. It was nice. It was simple. It was exactly what she needed.

It didn't hurt that he'd grown quite handsome since their school days. Nott had always been a bookworm, an outcast. But the years favoured him in both stature and elegance. Hermione couldn't help but think _Mr. Darcy_ when she laid eyes on him. He dressed in designer robes, without looking like a twat. He was well read. He had dark, luscious hair that curled around the tips. He was calm and introverted. But most of all, he was so very different from her ex-husband.

He was simple …in a good way.

Hermione shifted her attention to the dance floor, where various couples collected and swayed together under the moonlight. Her eyes lingered for only a moment or two, before Theo held his arm out.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, bowing to her.

She couldn't help but giggle. "You certainly may."

Theo whisked her to the center of the dance floor, where everyone could see them and chat about Hermione's gorgeous dress robes. Most of her dress robes were either blue or black – but that night she opted for her only emerald number. The skirt fanned out when she twirled. It made her feel young and alive. She wasn't quite 'old' by any standard definition, having only just turned twenty-three, but all those office days and stressful meetings had aged her prematurely, or so she felt.

Hermione didn't feel twenty-three. She felt like someone in her forties, at the very least. In fact, there was only one reminder of her true age. She glanced at the entrance through the corner of her eye, over Theo's strong and steady shoulders and spotted a little girl in the cutest white dress. Her blonde hair was in cute little ringlets. Her winning smile lit up the venue and charmed the guests. Her eyes were bright and vibrant. But most of all, she was a vision of her father.

There he was, holding his daughter's hand and laughing with her without a care in the world. Hermione thought back to the previous night, when she received a letter from her ex-husband, asking if it would be all right for him to take their daughter to Ron and Gemma's wedding. She found it strange that he managed to secure enough time to attend any such function, but he had ways of surprising her every now and then.

There were a few ladies whispering to each other and ogling him, fixated by the only single dad in attendance – but he paid them no mind. His attention was focused on Cissy, on their daughter. He gathered the little girl in his arms and spun her around, smiling with her and showing her what it means to be loved, as most fathers do. It was heart warming, and Hermione found herself falling deeper and deeper into the sea of nostalgia, until Cissy's curious eyes danced across the venue and found hers.

The little girl waved with both hands and rocketed to the center of the dance floor. "Mummy!" she cried out, excited beyond comprehension.

Theo managed to hear the familiar sound of his girlfriend's toddler, and the pair separated with just enough time for Hermione to gather her daughter and give her a tight hug.

"Look what Daddy got me!" she squealed, showing off her new silver locket. It was a timeless pendant, with the initials NM engraved on the back and two photographs inside. The first was a photograph of Cissy when she was first born – cute and simple. The second, however, was a photograph of baby Cissy and Hermione in front of the Eiffel Tower. Cissy's father had taken the photograph himself, during one of their last holidays together as a proper family.

"It's beautiful," Hermione commented, kissing her daughter on the cheek. "Make sure you take good care of it."

Cissy nodded like a mad woman, as though she'd already been drilled to maintain her priceless item. "I will, I promise!"

Through the corner of her eye, Hermione was able to distinguish the wizard sidelining their conversation. He was, of course, Cissy's father. She opened her mouth to say something, but Theo beat her to the punch. He stepped forth and shook hands, engaging the fair-haired Auror in some innocent small talk about Quidditch and the goings on at the Ministry. The men were old friends from school, which made for a seamless understanding. Neither of them wished to make the situation any more awkward than it was destined to be.

Hermione glanced down, feeling someone tug on the skirt of her dress robes. It was Cissy. "Is something wrong?" she asked, kneeling down to meet her daughter at eye level.

"Daddy said he's going to be in London for two whole weeks," the little girl explained, eyes hopeful. "Can I please stay with him? He said to ask your permission."

The brunette tossed her ex-husband a cursory glance, and then smiled. "Of course you can," she nodded. "Just make sure to be a good girl and tidy up all your messes."

"I will," Cissy promised, bobbing her head up and down. "I'll clean up Daddy's messes, too!"

"I don't think _that _will be necessary," Draco chimed in, highly amused by his daughter's enthusiasm. "Daddy hired a maid service to clean up both our messes. How does that sound?"

Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"Kidding," he winked, kissing his daughter on the forehead and meeting eyes with her mother for the first time all evening.

* * *

There were some situations in which quick wit and easy charm provided escape, but none of those tricks worked when it came to the chocolate-haired witch standing across from him. In a matter of milliseconds, the venue had shrunk down to their small portion of the dance floor. Draco couldn't see or hear anyone else.

"Good to see you," Hermione regarded, offering him a polite smile.

Her hair was in a loose knot, allowing several curls to spiral around her face and along her neck. Her makeup was light and simple. Her jewelry consisted of a thin silver chain and a charm bracelet she had since the age of four. But the most notable aspect of his ex-wife's appearance was the colour of her dress robes. They were green, emerald green.

Draco tossed formalities aside and reached for her hand, pressing the back against his lips. He could a tremor run through her body and into his, but no such reaction was evident in her facial expression. Over the past few years, the pair of them had managed to keep it civil. It was all business. It had been that way for quite some time, even before she started dating again.

As if on cue, Theo knelt down beside Cissy and held out his hand. "What do you say we have a dance?" he asked, having perfected his de facto stepfather role, despite Cissy's obvious disdain for him.

The little girl stared between her parents and then back at Theo. "Er –" Hermione flashed her daughter quick look, as if to encourage her into making more of an effort …and then Cissy gave Theo a reluctant nod. "I s'pose so."

Theo was a good sport about it. He knew there were several matters between his girlfriend and her ex-husband that needed fixing, and he trusted her enough to handle it without the slightest concern. Their relationship was near perfect. There was loyalty, trust, respect, everything.

Draco watched as his daughter went off with her new dance partner and then, as if on cue, there was a change in song. It went from a classic waltz number to a Muggle song that had undoubtedly been selected by Gemma. It was _Kiss Me _by Ed Sheeran. His attention drifted to Hermione, whose cheeks had turned a soft shade of coral. It took him back. It took far, far back, standing there across from her with their song playing and a dance floor at their disposal.

"Shall we?" he asked, noticing a tiny glimmer in her eyes as she surprised both of them and accepted his hand.

The wizard carefully positioned them a safe distance apart, but close enough to catch scent of her perfume. It was floral. It reminded him of the gardens outside their old villa. He tried to ignore the implication behind this scent and her emerald dress robes, and simply danced. It had been ages since he'd last danced with anyone, let alone his ex-wife. They swayed together, in complete silence, allowing the song to speak for them.

Their last normal exchange had been around two years ago, when Cissy sprained her ankle and had to be taken to St. Mungo's. Her parents had buried the hatchet for those few hours, sitting together in the waiting room, providing comfort for one another. It wasn't a serious injury, but it was enough to scare the daylights out of them.

"How have you been?" Hermione asked, breaking the silence.

The sound of her voice made his chest contract. "I – erm – I've been busy," he managed to say. "Thanks, by the way, for letting Cissy stay with me over the next few weeks."

"Of course," she smiled, so subtle yet so meaningful. "I happen to know she misses you greatly. The locket was a nice touch, too."

Draco returned the smile. "It belonged to my mother," he explained. "I figure Cissy should have something of hers."

The mention of their daughter's namesake made the smile fade from his lips. It had been years since his parents had passed, but the pain lingered.

"Is something the matter?" Hermione asked, catching wind of his change.

"Erm –" The words were caught in his throat. "It's nothing," he shrugged. "I just – It –"

"I know things haven't been good between us," she interjected, sensing where all of this was coming from. "But if you ever need anyone to talk to, you have me."

Draco's discomfort faded and he gave his dance partner an obvious look. "I _had _you," he corrected. "Theo has you now."

"I wouldn't be with him, if something as trivial as maintaining a cordial bond with my ex-husband proved bothersome," Hermione explained, matter-of-factly.

There was truth in that. It surprised Draco to think she had waited so long to date someone after the divorce, considering what happened. But she wasn't the type of witch that needed a man to survive. The only reason she'd even considered Theo was down to the space and respect he offered, without question. It was a mature relationship. It was a strong, healthy relationship.

It was so very different from _their _relationship.

Their conversation slowly faded into the background, and they resolved to just dance. In fact, their dance went on for so long that three or four songs had played and still, neither of them noticed. Draco was busy trying to keep his emotions in check, and Hermione was busy doing the same. It was safe to say they had left things on an awkward note, but neither of them dared to delve into the important topics. It was too soon. The wounds were still too fresh.

And without further ado, the song transitioned into something fast paced, coaxing the pair of them out of their thoughts. Young couples collected around them and danced without a care in the world. It reminded them of the Yule Ball, back in their fourth year at Hogwarts.

Hermione was the first to let go.

Draco followed, mistakenly brushing her left forearm as his hands fell to his sides. It wasn't on purpose and it shouldn't have mattered as much as it did, but the action of it made his ex-wife jump on the spot.

"Sorry," he murmured, wondering how they had gone from been helplessly in love with one another, to barely being able to touch. "I – It was a –" His words fell short, as he realized the truth behind what had happened.

Hermione backed away from him and clapped a hand over her left forearm, where she had applied makeup to cover the Dark Mark. It was still there, after all those years, after Tom Riddle had met his end. It was still there. The mark didn't quite bother Draco, seeing as he'd had one since the age of sixteen, but it was a very different case for his ex. She had not been raised with Pureblood ideals. She had not followed and respected Voldemort out of her own free will. She had no idea how to deal with the aftermath.

"I – I have to go –" she blurted, skirting away from him and away from the music.

Draco stood there wide-eyed, until he gathered the courage to follow her. He maneuvered through the jumping crowd and searched through the venue, before spotting a haze of emerald green around the corner. He practically sprinted after her and slowed down, as he turned the corner and found his ex with her face in her hands, near the entrance to the countryside estate where the wedding ceremony had been held. The reception was outside, in the back, overlooking the lush landscape.

"Hermione," he started, hearing his voice break as he approached her. "I – I didn't mean to –"

"It's all right," she assured him, fiercely wiping the tears from her eyes with her back turned. "I – I'll just fix it."

Draco watched, feeling his heart gradually break, as she fumbled with the clasp on her clutch and retrieved some makeup with quivering hands. "Here –" He couldn't stand it. He moved closer to her. "It was my fault. I'll do it."

She didn't object. She allowed him to smooth the makeup over her left forearm. The moisture in her eyes remained, but something inside her felt warm. He was so delicate with her, so cautious. In no time at all, the mark was covered and their eyes met.

"Thank you," Hermione told him, reflecting something deeper than her words. The tension was back, but it was different this time around. It was suspended in the air between them, like magnetic energy. Without thinking, she stepped forth and pressed her lips onto his cheek, embracing him as though they had spent no time apart. "I mean it," she whispered, still shaken. "Thank you, Draco."

The sound of his name leaving her lips was spellbinding. He'd waited years for a moment like this, for a glimpse into what they had once shared. It made him feel whole again. It made all his worries and stresses fade into the background, along with the gentle drum of music coming from the reception. Draco breathed in, knowing this wouldn't last forever, and familiarized himself with her scent and her touch.

He closed his eyes and held back the desire to be honest and tell her his true feelings. There would be a time and place for such things. He would make sure of it. Ron and Gemma's wedding was neither the time nor the place, especially with Nott lurking around somewhere.

Slowly, his eyes opened and he thought to let go …but he didn't.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, moving away from him. She combed the hair from his forehead, noticing beads of sweat collecting around his hairline. "Draco?" Her voice was filled with so much concern, and yet, she had no idea. "Talk to me." She searched through his demeanour for an indication as to what had happened to him, but there was no getting through. She then turned on her heel and followed his line of vision.

Her stomach lurched.

Draco waited for her to lose it as he had, but she didn't. She rushed away from him and to the bottom of a nearby tapestry, where Theodore Nott was sprawled …either dead or unconscious. Her ex-husband eventually found her side and knelt down, helping her check the man's vitals.

"He – He's fine," she breathed, still panicked. "But it looks like he's been –"

"Knocked out," Draco finished, noticing the gash on Nott's forehead. It bled into his hair and onto the wooden flooring.

The strain in Hermione's features deepened, and then it dawned on her. "If – If he's here then – then –"

Draco swallowed hard, praying this day would never come, praying to any and every higher power that his only treasure would always be kept safe and out of harms way. "_Cissy_," he breathed, in disbelief. "I – I'll go search around the –"

"Wait!" Hermione exclaimed, having waved her wand and casted an awakening spell over her boyfriend's body.

The pair of them stood there in silence as Nott's eyes flickered open. It looked like he'd awoken after a long night at the office, but his expression changed in less time than they could count. He shot upright, crazed and panicked, and stared between Draco and Hermione.

"I – I didn't mean for –"

"Never mind that," Draco interjected, rushing towards him. "Where's Cissy?"

"I – I don't know," he stammered. "I – I brought her here to look at the tapestries and –"

Draco grabbed him by the shoulders, rather aggressively given the nature of their situation. "_And what_?" he probed, tears clouding his vision. "_And what_?"

Hermione sunk to her knees and held a hand over her mouth. Nott found her eyes, wearing a look so distraught he may as well have spoken the truth right then and there.

"She was taken," he uttered. "Cissy was taken."

**A/N: Thanks for reading this chapter! I honestly wasn't going to write an entire sequel haha. The story came to me late last night and I've already finished my first draft. I understand some of you are upset that Hermione and Draco aren't together, but keep reading. I promise this story will be worth it. **

**Tell me what you think! **

**Cheers**

**xo.**


	3. Wayward Thoughts and Firewhiskey

There was a breeze. It crawled in through the cracks of the building and enveloped Hermione, as she sat lifeless in her daughter's bedroom. The walls were sage green and the furniture was eggshell white, with tiny sketches here and there from Cissy's incessant need to draw on _everything_. It had once annoyed Hermione, but in that moment, after the wedding reception, she would have given anything to have her daughter running about the house again …pen, in hand.

She couldn't move. She couldn't think. She could only hope. She could only pray that something would arise, some new piece of information, but there was nothing. The Auror Department had gone so far as to have her escorted off the premises the last time she was there. It had been three days since Cissy's kidnapping; three long, lonely days filled with nothing but regrets and what ifs.

Theodore stood by the door with two cups of piping hot tea in hand. He had a place of his own, but given the nature of Cissy's disappearance and the fact that his girlfriend hadn't eaten anything or slept for more than an hour since the reception, he decided to stay and help. The lingering guilt laced within his blue eyes was more than Hermione could bear. She knew he felt horrible for what happened, but it could've been anyone. Cissy could have been standing there with her mother, her father, her Uncle Ron or her Aunt Gemma …and she still would have disappeared.

That was the thing about kidnapping. It always seemed to happen right under the adult's nose.

"Hermione?" he asked, approaching her. "Would you like some tea?"

She shook her head.

"Please have some," Theodore reasoned. "You haven't consumed anything for three days."

She remained silent. She had plenty to say, but nobody wanted to hear it. Her four-year-old daughter was missing. Any normal parent would lose control, just as she had. Her behavior wasn't uncalled for. It was perfectly normal. She had every right to be distraught, to be lifeless and heartbroken.

Hermione's head sunk low and she felt tears collect around her eyes. "I'm a terrible mother," she whispered. "How could I let this happen?"

Theodore placed the tea on top of a nearby side table and had a seat beside his girlfriend, placing an arm around her and hugging her close, against his chest. She was shaking. It took everything he had not to Apparate into the Ministry right then and demand they make progress.

"Cissy adores you," he started, combing his fingers through her unwashed hair. "I've never encountered a toddler with so much love and admiration for her mother."

"She won't love me after this," Hermione deduced, fingers trembling. "She's waiting for me to come find her …and I'm here …crying …useless."

Theodore kissed the top of her head. "Never say those things about yourself. If anyone is to blame, it has to be me. She was under my watch. She was my responsibility."

"Not at all…" the brunette disagreed, glancing up at him. "This isn't your fault."

He said nothing in response. He merely held her and did all he could to soothe her pain. He didn't have a child of his own. He didn't understand the level of heartache. But even then, as a fairly new addition to Hermione's life, he cared deeply for her daughter. He'd only known Cissy for a short period of time, having waited to be introduced as per Hermione's wishes. It was fair enough. She didn't want to bring a new man into her daughter's life without knowing if the relationship was serious. He took the introduction as a compliment, and thought of all those days in the Hogwarts library, wherein his eyes had followed the bookish Gryffindor …longing for her company.

He had, of course, heard stories of Hermione's former romance. It had been a long time since those days – five years, to be exact – but every now and then, he would catch his girlfriend peering off into the distance. '_What's going through your mind?'_ he would ask. '_Just thinking about something'_ she would respond, offering him a reassuring smile. Theodore may have been fairly inexperienced in terms of romance and relationships, but even he could deduce the source of her wandering thoughts.

It was all in her eyes. It was all in those miniscule flecks of bronze, and the way they seemed to glimmer whenever _someone _crossed her mind.

* * *

Draco pounded another glass of Firewhiskey, ignoring the passing glances. The news of his daughter's disappearance had circulated the community by the third night. Everyone knew. Everyone whispered. But none of them had answers. None of them offered even the slightest shred of help. It was all gossip to them. It was temporary sorrow, before they returned to their perfect lives with their perfect families.

He hated the lot of them.

The most torturous aspect of the entire ordeal was, having to wait on the sidelines. The fact that it had been his own daughter to go missing created a conflict of interest, which meant Draco had been forced to take a leave of absence whilst the other Aurors carried on with the details.

In other words, he couldn't do a damned thing.

There was no escape. There was no solace. There was only the bottom of glass, and so he pounded drink after drink.

* * *

Hermione's eyes flickered open. She was still in Cissy's room, with Theodore's arm around her waist. They were on the bed, having passed out after three solid days of no sleep. Her mouth stretched into a yawn, as she carefully maneuvered out of his grasp and into the corridor. Her body was dehydrated. She couldn't yet eat, but having a glass of water every now and then was good enough to keep her going. The brunette entered her kitchen and tilted back a full pint.

She then glanced at the sink. The dishes were washed and put away. It must have been Theo. She made a mental note to thank him for caring and being so patient – but her appreciative thoughts were cut short when something tapped against one of the windows in the lounge. Hermione set down her glass and peered through the window, spotting an unfamiliar owl.

She raced into the lounge and unlatched the window, permitting the owl entrance. Her efforts had garnered no response. The owl remained perched on the windowsill, staring at her with disdain as she retrieved the letter from its pouch.

No matter. Hermione ignored the peculiar owl, fully expecting the letter to have been sent from the Auror Department. _They found Cissy_, she ventured, hopeful to the point of madness. _She – She must be waiting for me at the Ministry. _But as her eyes glossed over the wax seal, she noticed something. This letter was not from the Ministry. In fact, she didn't know where it was from.

The wax seal carried a set of numbers as opposed to a symbol, and without another moment of confusion, Hermione realized the nature of this letter.

Her heartbeat quickened.

Theodore entered the lounge, rubbing the fatigue from his facial features. "Hermione…? What's going on?" he asked, eyes half-lidded.

She ignored him, feeling her insides toss and turn. She read the letter over and over again. It contained just one line printed in the most flourished handwriting she'd ever laid eyes on. It can't have been …but it was. There was no other explanation.

"Hermione?" Theodore approached her and read the letter from over her shoulder. His eyes widened. "What – What is that?"

She breathed in, feeling her chest muscles contract with each passing second. "_Eye for an eye_," she repeated, reading the single line out loud. "It – It's from them."

"Hold on, hold on. What are you talking about? What do you mean?"

"The – The kidnappers," she uttered. "_Eye for an eye_."

Theodore took hold of the letter and held it close for further inspection. There were no secret markings or hidden messages. It was all in that one line. He wore a calculated expression and then proceeded to the nearby desk for a roll of parchment and a Quill.

His girlfriend followed and stared at him, dumbfounded. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm alerting the Auror Department," he said, directly. "This is precisely the type of clue for which they've been searching for the past three days."

"_Stop –_" She grabbed his wrist and watched as the Quill fell from his grasp. "You will do no such thing."

He looked to her, taken aback. "I beg your pardon?"

Hermione breathed deeply, knowing there was a proper course of action in a situation similar to theirs. In any normal circumstance, she would have agreed with her boyfriend and alerted the Auror Department …but there was nothing normal about these particular circumstances. She wasn't a normal witch. She had a history. She had …enemies.

"I need you to step away from the desk and let me handle this," she said, speaking very carefully, acutely aware of the disbelief in her boyfriend's eyes. "I know I've been …difficult these past three days, but you have to listen to me." She laced their fingers together, gazing into his eyes with the utmost urgency. "The Auror Department cannot know about this letter."

"Hermione…" he breathed, shaking his head. "You're not well. You haven't eaten. You've barely slept. You're not in the right frame of mind…"

"_Listen to me_," she repeated, squeezing his hands. "I've calmed down these past five years, but I once lived a life filled with danger …with enemies lurking around every corner –" Her voice trembled. "I – I know the minds of these people and I know the moment we alert the Auror Department is the moment we lose our chance at finding Cissy."

Theodore pulled his hands from her grasp and massaged his temples. "I can't believe you're doing this. I know you've been through a lot but I genuinely can't believe this is your idea of – of –"

"Six days," Hermione interjected. "That's how long it will take for this letter to be processed before the Auror Department is allowed to conduct a proper investigation. Do you know what can happen in six days?"

"I understand where you're coming from but –"

"No!" she shouted, finally losing control. "You _don't_ understand where I'm coming from, because as much as you may care for Cissy …she isn't _your_ flesh and blood." The brunette gazed into her boyfriend's eyes, feeling tears rise up around her own. "It's already been three days – three fucking days –" She paused, wiping the moisture from her eyes and cheeks. "I – I can't sit here and wait six more. I can't and I won't." Her entire body was shaking. "And – And if you have a problem with that, then I suggest you pack your things and leave this flat."

The frustration in Theodore's expression vanished. He stood there, in shock. "You're serious, aren't you?"

Hermione nodded, moving closer to him and leaning her hand against his chest. "You have to trust me on this," she told him. "I – I'm sorry for being short with you, but this is a do or die situation. I know because I've been in one before; several, actually."

There was silence in the air. It appeared as though the night darkened, more than it already had, and everything they'd been going through for the past three days hung in the balance. Theodore closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around his girlfriend, bowing his head next to hers. "If this is what you want, then I won't stand in your way," he promised. "I just – I hope you know this is madness."

"It's only madness if we lose," she spoke. "Gryffindors never lose."

* * *

Somewhere across the city, in a flat too large for just one occupant, there was another letter. It bore a wax seal with the initials _HG _and was carried into the flat by a different owl, through an open window. The letter rested on top of the owner's bed, where he struggled to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time. There were nightmares circulating his dreams. He saw vivid images, images that startled him awake and upright, covered in a thick layer of cold sweat.

Draco panted, feeling his hair cling to his skin like adhesive. He breathed in and out, trying desperately to calm the nerves in his stomach, until finally, he noticed the letter on his pillow and recognized the wax seal without a second look.

_Come see me_, it read. _We have our first clue. _


	4. Late Nights and Cigarettes

There was an air of uneasiness within the flat. It had been five years since he had walked through those doors, into his former home. Draco sat silently in the lounge with Nott seated across from him. The men avoided each other's eyes and waited for their one common link to return from her bath. It was an odd hour to have a bath, but Draco figured Hermione had been too distressed to wash up for the past three days. He'd been the same, having finally taken a quick shower before leaving his own flat.

His surroundings hadn't changed much. The furniture was still the same: mahogany, magical artifacts and worn leather sofas. It was classic and comfortable. He could still remember the day they moved in. It was just after Hermione had given birth to Cissy. Before then, they'd been living in the villa, in Tuscany, deciding it was best for her to go through her pregnancy whilst in the countryside.

He missed those days.

"How has she been?" Draco asked, unable to handle the silence any longer.

Nott glanced up at him, leaning back against the sofa. "Unwell," he answered, confirming his short response with the look on his face. It was a mixture of fear and concern.

As if on cue, the shower turned off and within moments, Hermione entered the lounge in a pair of jeans and a light blue button-up. Her hair was soaking wet. There were dark circles under her eyes and even in three days, she looked visibly thinner. It made Draco's chest contract, the way it did when he worried for her. She obviously hadn't eaten anything. He didn't blame her but it still sparked a feeling of discomfort within his bloodstream.

The men stood from their seats as Hermione approached. She stared between them with an eyebrow arched, and then moved to the desk where she had kept the letter.

Draco followed her with his eyes, having read the letter as soon as he came over. Nott showed it to him, looking grim and not at all comfortable with the plan. The poor bloke had no idea Cissy's parents planned on going vigilante. He wasn't like them. He abided by the law. He followed orders. He never stepped on anyone's toes for anything.

It had to be the sole reason he'd managed to survive the Second Wizarding War. Nott had been one of few people to remain in the middle, unbiased, and uninvolved.

Hermione strolled past her boyfriend and handed Draco the part of the letter that contained the wax seal. "Numbers," she started, wearing the same determination she perfected during her teenaged adventures with Harry and Ron. "I have an idea what they mean, but I need your opinion."

His eyes glossed over the numbers, once again. _25_. It could have meant anything. It could have simply been a borrowed stamp or a wide variety of different, mundane things – but this number meant something to Draco and to Hermione. It was the number of their room at the _Wyvern Wing Inn_. It was the number of the room they had stayed in, during their short stop over in Sterling Harbour.

It was safe to say the owner of the _Wyvern Wing Inn _had a bone to pick with them. Because of them, his nephew – William Forbes – had died a tragic death. Because of them, he lost his last remaining family member. Because of them, he was alone. This provided Richard Forbes with the intent to hurt them, the intent to seek revenge for all he had lost.

Cissy was the perfect piece to the puzzle, but there was one problem in this otherwise sound theory.

"Richard Forbes is still locked up in Azkaban," Hermione verbalized. "He – He could very well have people on the outside, but something doesn't feel right…"

Draco nodded his head, in deep thought. "The wedding was secure," he reflected, rising to pace the room. "There were men patrolling the venue at all times. Ron and Gemma had taken every measure necessary to ensure the guests were safe."

"What if the kidnapper _was _a guest?" Nott ventured, staring between them.

Hermione shook her head and sunk down beside him, combing through her wet hair with quivering fingers. "I've already taken a look at the guest list and there no names that seemed at all suspicious." She'd clearly thought about this multiple times.

"The attacker could have been under the Imperius Curse," Draco chimed in, turning to Nott. "Run through your story again. Don't leave anything out."

By then, Nott had explained his side of the events at least twenty times, but he agreed nonetheless. There was always the chance he'd left out a minor detail by mistake, and in their case, every detail was important. He closed his eyes a moment and recalled the setting and the situation.

"I'd taken Cissy for a walk, after our dance," he started. "She wanted to see both of you, but I knew you were still catching up, so I did all I could to distract her. I pointed out funny hats the guests were wearing and I took her to the refreshment table for some snacks …but none of that worked."

"How did you arrive at the tapestry?" Draco asked, still pacing the room.

Nott rubbed his face, visibly exhausted. "Cissy took me there. She said there was a picture in the ceremony room that looked interesting. I followed her inside and realized she'd been talking about one of the tapestries. I explained the story behind it, knowing she had a knack for art, and for the first time …she seemed genuinely interested in something I was saying, so I continued." His expression turned hollow, as he reached the end of the story. "I talked for maybe ten or twelve minutes …and then I heard something behind us. It sounded like footsteps." His eyes darkened. "But as I had a look around, I saw nothing. The room was empty, save for us. Then…I turned to Cissy and saw the look on her face. She was looking directly at me with her eyes as wide as Galleons. She was …terrified." He took a deep breath. "Then it happened. It was quick. I tried to ask her what she had seen, what made her look at me with such fear in her eyes, but before I could get a word across …everything went dark." He exhaled. "She was gone, and the next thing I remember was waking up on the floor with you two hovering over me."

Hermione closed her eyes, knowing the story by heart. It tugged at her chest muscles and made her quake with worry. Cissy was a tough girl, but even the dark seemed to terrify the toddler. Her mother could only imagine the fear that had coursed through her daughter's veins when she'd been taken. She must have wept. She must have screamed. She must have had an absolute fit …and nobody knew, nobody could hear her. The music had been loud. The guests had been chatting and laughing and dancing the night away.

It was the perfect crime.

She sifted through her boyfriend's story for another five or six minutes, in silence, and then it dawned on her. "Hold on –" Hermione turned to Theodore. "The last thing you saw was the fear in Cissy's eyes?"

He nodded, unable to decipher the reason behind her sudden interest in that specific detail. "Yes, but –"

"Her eyes were focused on you?" the brunette furthered.

Theodore nodded again. "I didn't see anyone but me reflected in her eyes, if that's what you're getting at." It clearly hadn't occurred to him, the single most important part to his story. "I saw only myself."

Draco paused mid-step, having listened to the exchange up until that point. He then realized what Hermione was thinking, and slowly …he realized the truth behind what happened. "Where were you before the wedding?" he asked Nott, sounding a little more aggressive than he'd intended. "_Do you remember_?"

The dark-haired wizard stared between Cissy's parents, bewildered. "You're not suggesting _I _had anything to do with her disappearance…" he exhaled, in disbelief, looking to his girlfriend for some form of support. Her expression didn't waver. Nott swallowed hard. "You are…"

"Do you remember?" Draco asked again, using a different, calmer tone of voice.

"Of course I remember," Theodore answered, confident in his words. "I was in Diagon Alley getting my dress robes tailored for the wedding, and then I – I –" His expression faltered. His eyes went wide. He stared at Hermione and then at Draco, and then everything went blank. "I can't remember," he breathed, in a voice so low it was barely audible. "It – It _was _me. I – I _did _do it."

His school chum wore a look that suggested otherwise. "You were clearly under the Imperius Curse," Draco said, surprising everyone including himself with his willingness to dismiss Nott as the primary culprit. "There's no need to feel guilty. It could have been any number of us under the curse, but the kidnapper chose you because you're –"

"My boyfriend," Hermione interjected, nodding along and taking Theo's hands in hers. "I understand you feel horrible about what happened, but right now …I need you to focus and I need you to tell me the last place you remember being, before arriving at this flat and escorting me to the wedding."

Nott sunk low in his chair. "I was strolling out of the tailor shop, and then I took to Gringott's to make a quick deposit."

"What happened after that?" Draco asked, trying his best to stay calm and composed.

"I went to my vault and – and –" Theo expression turned dismal. "That's it. That's all I remember."

Hermione breathed in, deeply. "Someone was waiting for you in your vault," she deduced. "It had to have been a goblin. The security measures in Gringott's have increased exponentially since the war …but what could a goblin want with a child?"

"It's not the child," Draco speculated. "It's what the primary kidnapper offered the goblin, in exchange for access to Theo's vault." His theory was perfectly plausible. "The goblin was as much of a pawn as Theo."

There was silence in the lounge, as all three of them were immersed in their cohesive thoughts. The pieces had finally fallen into place. They were getting somewhere. It had been three days and finally, they were getting somewhere.

Hermione rose from the sofa, practically shaking with anticipation. "Cissy must have been taken somewhere close to the venue," she said, thinking out loud. "Draco and I had only been separated from her for fifteen minutes, before we found Theo sprawled on the floor of the ceremony room." She faced her boyfriend. "There wasn't much time to spare."

In other words, whilst under the Imperius Curse, Theodore had to have taken Cissy to one of the surroundings estates. There wasn't enough time to take her further, without causing a panic and being discovered. It had to be quick. It had to be fool proof.

"It's settled then," Draco announced, nodding his head up and down. "We'll search through the area, through every estate and every inch of surrounding land."

"What about Gringott's?" asked Nott. "Surely we're better off searching the vault for clues."

Hermione nodded. "We'll split up and search both," she decided. "In pairs."

Draco and Nott exchanged a quick look, and then Draco questioned the obvious. "There are only three of us."

"Right – erm –" The brunette rushed to her desk and poured over a roll of parchment. She wrote with haste, with trembling fingers.

_Dear Severus…_

* * *

The room was smoky and dim. It smelled of sweat and cigarettes, and in the middle of the otherwise empty, darkened vicinity rested a bed. It was old and creaky, and just barely held itself together against the pressure overtop. A woman – young and auburn-haired – tossed her head back and emitted a soft, sensual moan. She can't have been more than twenty-five, and after a lot of painstaking seduction and bodily persuasion, she managed to get her much older, much more sophisticated partner in bed.

She had first met him in Manhattan. He'd been frequenting one of the wizarding pubs in the area, down the street from her apartment. She had just been hired as a bartender at the pub and had eyes for this older gentleman from the moment she first saw him. He wasn't particularly handsome, just brooding and introverted. It caused her imagination to run wild, thinking of what his story could possibly be.

The more time she spent wondering, the more he began to notice her wandering glances and dreamy-eyed looks.

"I'm Louise," she had introduced, having served him an abundance of alcohol by that point. "What's your name?"

His dark eyes had regarded her with curiosity. He was probably wondering why such a young and attractive witch was speaking to him. Her advances had gone unnoticed, during the first few moments of their conversation, but he was then able to connect the dots.

"I'm flattered," he'd told her, wearing an aged, experienced smile. "But I'm old enough to be your father."

Louise didn't stop there. She had to show him there wasn't much of a difference between them. She had to show him she was mature. It took another week before she was able to do so, through intellectual conversation and some innocent research into his area of expertise: potions.

"You know…" she told him, wiping the counter after a long night. "Mixing drinks is a lot like potion-making."

He laughed then. It wasn't a sarcastic laugh or at all insulting. It was kind and genuine, and through it the barrier had been broken. He had leaned in and whispered something into her ear, making her blush and causing an almost childlike giggle to escape her glossed lips. They continued to chat and to laugh and to delve deeper into this unexpected connection. The truth of the matter was that Louise wouldn't have pursued him at all, had he not been stealing quick glances at her during those initial nights. He'd been attracted to her from the beginning, but hadn't planned to do anything about it until she stepped in and took charge.

She'd never been with someone like him. It wasn't just the age difference. It was the maturity, the honesty. It appeared as though he'd had his heart broken before, and Louise was no different. She was broken, too. She needed fixing, just as much he did …and so there they were, on top of the bed, licking each other's wounds along with many, many other things.

Her chest rose and fell with ferocity, as she climaxed, grinding her hips against him and riding through the orgasm. It was her fourth orgasm that night, and still …he kept going. His stamina was unbelievable. He whisked her through every inch of the room – on the floor, against the wall, on the balcony, and then finally …that same rippling sensation coursed through his body and they fell together, in a mess of heavy breathing and tangled limbs.

Louise arched her back and panted for breath. "That was – That was intense."

"Was I too rough?" he asked, speaking for the first time since the beginning of their heated interlude.

She rolled onto her front and combed the damp hair from his forehead. "I like it like that."

A hint of a blush crept onto his cheeks. He'd never been with someone so forward, so willing. It was new territory, and part of him felt scandalous for even flirting with a woman so young, but something about Louise seemed safe and familiar. She was more than glossed lips and tight skirts. She was a good person, or so he told himself.

His attention then drifted to the balcony where an owl swooped in, carrying with it a letter. The man rose to his feet and had a look.

"What does it say?" asked Louise, following him and noticing the change in his expression. "Severus?"

"I – I have to go home," he said. "I have to go to England – immediately."

Louise raised both eyebrows. "Now? I thought you were on leave from work."

"I am," he confirmed. "This isn't work. This is …personal."

Her face fell. "Oh."

Severus folded the letter into his palm and kissed the top of her forehead. "I'll be back soon," he promised, uncertain as to whether or not this would actually be the case. "Hopefully."

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Don't forget to leave a review. **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	5. Potions and Portraits

Hermione approached the guests in her lounge, having paced her entire flat for the better part of the morning. It had been a long night. Her eyes had drifted to the clock propped atop the mantle every few minutes or so and she counted each second as another second wasted. There was no time to spare.

"All right," she started, staring between them. "How should we divide the pairs?"

Severus was the first to respond, having traveled from Manhattan to London via Port Key. He arrived less than an hour after the letter had been sent, and the threesome had then spent another ten minutes explaining what had happened and what they planned on doing about it. His initial reaction had been similar to that of Theodore's, but he eventually came around and went so far as to suggesting they all carry a vial of Polyjuice Potion _just in case_. It was standard issue for any potions enthusiast.

"Theodore, you must go to Gringotts because we need access into yourvault," he explained, looking to his former pupil. "There will be no breaking in, of any sort. We can't risk exposure."

"I'll go with him," Hermione volunteered, moving to her boyfriend's side.

Theo nodded. "Sounds good to me."

"Wait –" Severus hovered in the moment, mid-thought. "There's a chance the Imperius Curse is still active," he furthered. "It may not be in full swing, but once the curse is used, it's difficult to shake." He faced Nott. "Have you any experience in the practice of Occlumency?"

The young man paused. "I do but – the kidnapper must be more powerful than we thought, if he or she was able to bypass my defenses."

Severus moved his head in agreement. "My thoughts exactly."

"What does that mean?" Hermione asked, staring between them. "What do we have to do?"

"There are ways to reverse the Imperius Curse without Occlumency," Severus explained, reaching for something in his robes. He withdrew a vial of greenish liquid. "_This_ will put a block on the curse. Speak of it to no one. It's very rare and very, very illegal."

Draco arched an eyebrow. "And you have it because…?"

"Because I do," Severus finished, uncorking the vial and handing it to Theodore. "One drop an hour for the next three days and you'll be good as gold."

Nott took hold of the vial, visibly skeptical. "Is it safe to …consume?"

Severus gave him a tentative nod. "The potion is fit for consumption, if administered correctly."

"Maybe Theodore should stay back," Hermione voiced. "I'll go to Gringotts on my own. Everyone knows we're dating. They won't care if I enter his vault alone."

"NO –" Theo interjected, causing a stir within the group. "I mean – I – I shouldn't stay back. I should do my part in this. Cissy is gone because of me," he quickly added. "I'll go to my vault."

"I'll join him," Severus furthered. "I should stay by Theodore's side to make sure the potion is administered in a safe and secure manner. The last thing we want is an overdose."

"What happens when you overdose?" Hermione asked, unsettled.

Severus hesitated in answering her question. "It depends on the level of mind control, but in most cases an overdose leads to a vegetative state."

Theodore swallowed hard. "Brilliant."

"Well…he _did_ say the potion was illegal," Draco voiced, hands in his pockets. "Can't complain."

Hermione rolled her eyes and then focused. "I think we're done here."

"I suppose so," Severus agreed. "Myself and Mr. Nott will search through his vault, whilst Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy search through the surrounding land." It sounded simple enough, but there was obvious subtext in the latter end of their arrangement. "We rendezvous at _The Leaky Cauldron _come noon. Any questions?"

"What's our cover?" Draco wondered, posing a question in everyone's mind.

Severus narrowed his eyes in thought. "Theodore and I could say we're –"

"No – I mean _our _cover." The fair-haired wizard tossed a look at the only Gryffindor in the room, whom the entire magical community knew to be his ex-wife. "Surely we can't be seen together without striking suspicion."

The gentlemen remained silent, immersed in their search for a solution. Then, in a matter of seconds, there was movement behind them. They fixed their attention to the desk, where Hermione had scurried off. She opened and closed several drawers before locating a bundle of velvet fabric. She then proceeded to unfold the fabric and hold it for everyone to see – or rather – see through.

The men stood there – wide-eyed – as Hermione's lips curved into a wicked grin. "Who says we have to be seen?"

* * *

The journey to Diagon Alley had been taken longer than expected. In any normal situation, Severus would have suggested they Apparate to their destination, but the potion he had prescribed to Theodore prevented rapid, stomach-lurching modes of transportation such as the Floo Network and even Apparition. It was a tough angle, but they somehow managed to arrive within the hour.

Severus kept a watchful eye over his former pupil. It brought him back to the Hogwarts days, wherein Theodore hid from the limelight and walked in the shadows of his louder, more popular friends. That being said, he was also a very keen and very observant young man with multifaceted magical ability. It piqued Severus' curiosity to think he'd been duped by whoever this kidnapper happened to be, but there would be time to ask those questions.

For now, their only mission was to search through his vault for clues. The former Potions Master had it on good authority that they would find close to nothing. The kidnapper already proved his or herself to be a covert operator. There was no chance he or she would be daft enough to have left anything behind – unless that was the intention.

In which case, they were walking straight into a trap.

"Here we are," the goblin announced, stepping out of the mine cart. "Vault six hundred and eighty-nine, bearing the property of Mr. Theodore Nott."

Nott approached the door to his vault and glanced behind to make sure his old accomplice was close. They waited patiently as the goblin unlocked the vault and then, they were alone. Severus scanned the contents inside, spotting nothing out of ordinary. There were mountains of coins – Knuts, Sickles and Galleons – atop every surface of the vault. There were also some family heirlooms, such as jewelry and antique furniture, but most noticeably, there was a velvet box propped front and center, on top of a medium-sized mahogany coffee table.

Severus approached the item, knowing Theodore was somewhere around the corner searching through the cracks for a clue he would never find. He made a quick swipe and opened the velvet box, recognizing immediately the object in his hand. It was a diamond ring, but not just any diamond ring. It was an engagement ring: princess-cut solitaire in rose gold.

"Merlin's Beard…" he remarked, holding the diamond ring in the light and catching a glimmer against the tiny, microscopic surfaces.

Nott came around the corner. "I can't find –"

Severus turned on the heel of his loafer and closed the velvet box with an inverted _pop_. "If I had to venture a guess, I would assume this is why you didn't want Miss Granger anywhere near your vault."

His former pupil opted for silence. There was a touch of disdain within his facial expression, but it lasted only a short while. He then made a grab for the box and placed it back on the table. "I would ask you to keep this a secret, but there's no point after what happened."

"What do you mean?" Severus asked.

"Her daughter went missing under my watch," Theodore uttered, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I'll be lucky if Hermione still speaks to me after this – forget about an engagement."

Severus shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not sure about that. She seemed quite keen to protect you back in the flat."

Theodore ignored his reasoning and continued to search the vault, as both a distraction and an escape. In truth, he'd visited Gringotts on the day of the wedding, in order to deposit the engagement ring he'd purchased for Hermione. If everything had gone according to plan, he'd have proposed to her two days afterwards, on the day of their anniversary. It was quite early in the relationship, but he loved her and he knew she loved him back. They were good together. They made a fine match. Plus, the only decent advice his father had ever given him was to find a girl out of his league and to marry her before it was too late.

In another part of the vault, Severus searched through various heirlooms and various stacks of coins, thinking distantly of the one time he'd even considered marriage. It had been ages since that time in his life, and even though he managed to open his heart to someone new …his thoughts still drifted to Lily Evans every now and then. Their connection had been fast and fervent – and it eventually died out with as much speed and urgency, if not more.

Then there was Louise.

Severus wasn't sure about his new romance. He cared for Louise. She was bold and brilliant – but she was also very young and very impressionable. He was sure she'd wake up one day and realize she could do much, much better than a has-been Potions Master. Nevertheless, he'd promised himself to enjoy this romance while it lasted and take every opportunity given. Life was too short to dwell on lost love.

Theodore approached him. "Professor?"

He could feel one of those _talks _coming on. Severus didn't know what it was about him, but people always came to him for love advice. He really wasn't adept in the details of romance and relationships. In fact, he was now pushing forty and had never once been in a proper relationship.

"Professor?" Theodore repeated.

Severus turned around and found the young man with his hand extended, but there was nothing in it. "Is there a cloaking device on what you're trying to show me?" the older wizard asked, staring blankly into nothing. "Mr. No –" He then narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, realizing what was in Theo's hand. It was a strand of hair. It was a long strand of hair – brown in colour and fairly straight.

"How did you find that?" Severus asked, taking a closer look.

"It was on the floor," he explained. "Behind the coffee table."

"Perfect hiding spot for an intruder," Severus furthered, reflecting the conclusion in Theo's eyes. "Job well done, Mr. Nott."

* * *

"This place looks …bleak," Draco commented, following his ex-wife into an abandoned manor.

It was large, very old and carried an austere atmosphere. If it weren't his daughter on the line, Draco would have made a clever remark about this particular manor being the perfect setting for a murder. The rancid odour definitely smelled like rotting corpses, or at least what he imagined rotting corpses smelled like. It was a cross between hot garbage and vomit, with hints of manure depending on which way the wind was blowing.

Draco covered his mouth and continued, gagging the whole way inside and doing his best to avoid the creepy crawly insects.

"Oh – toughen up," Hermione teased, ducking away from some cobwebs and into what appeared to have been the parlour. "You're a bloody Auror, for Merlin's sake."

The air was rank and filled with dust. The rotting wooden tables and the worn, moth-eaten sofas were covered in a thick layer of grime. Everything was musty. Everything was damaged and dilapidated. It was a little disheartening, standing there knowing this manor had once been the pick of the litter …when its current state would have caused a fright within even the most feral creatures.

"I wonder what happened here," Draco voiced from near the fireplace. His eyes danced across one tattered family portrait from the early 1900s. "Well, aren't they the vision of happiness and fortification."

Hermione glanced at the portrait from over his shoulder, noticing the solemn, somber expressions. There was a family of five, and each of them looked identical in the sense that they had the same dark hair and the same distressed look about their faces. They weren't at all bad looking or unfit – just somber.

There was one teenaged boy in particular, standing to the left with a bit of distance between himself and the rest of his family. He could have passed for handsome, had he not been stone-faced in the portrait.

She had to remind herself that this was a family of witches and wizards, which meant their portrait should have been moving, as was custom. She then moved closer to the portrait and noticed something. It was moving, but the only movement in the portrait was every six or seven seconds when the family of five would all _blink _in unison.

A single chill crawled the length of her spine, and she turned away.

"Wands out?" Draco interjected, with impeccable timing.

Hermione nodded. "Definitely." She reached into her thin robes and withdrew her wand of dragon heartstring core, realizing just then that the last time she used her wand was at the reception, when she and Draco had found Theo sprawled lifelessly near the foot of the tapestry. "I'll take the left wing and you take the right."

Draco paused mid-step. "Shouldn't we stay together?"

"No, this way we'll cover more ground in a shorter period of time," she countered. "It's the logical thing to do."

He didn't refute her point. It _was _the logical thing to do, but something about leaving her to roam this dank, rotting structure didn't feel right. That said, there was no point in arguing. Draco bit his tongue and continued onward, parting ways with Hermione as they left the parlour and moved in opposite directions.

His wand arm was extended the whole way, and he managed to do some sensory spells, searching for traces of Cissy or just any recent movement within the manor. He covered the kitchen, the lounge and the remaining common areas, but nothing came up. The place had been empty for ages. The only movement came from the insects crawling between his feet.

Draco swore out loud and jerked his left leg in the air, having stepped on a rather large creature with far too many legs for its miniscule body.

His attention then drifted to another one of those family portraits. This one was positioned on the wall in one of the large, impossibly long corridors. It appeared as though there had been many other portraits that had once covered these walls, but only one remained. In that portrait was a little girl, not much older than Cissy. The nameplate on the frame told him her name was Olivia and that the portrait was from 1901. She had that same dark hair and distressed look about her face, but something in her eyes suggested an air of youth that had undoubtedly been forced out of her as the years went on.

It was heartbreaking.

There were so many aspects of fatherhood that had changed him. It surprised Draco to think he'd once had no desire for children. He _loved _children. He loved their little feet and high-pitched voices. He loved their bright, vibrant eyes and insatiable curiosity. He loved their desire for mischief and that, no matter how many baths they were given they were always _a little _dirty. It made his heart ache with fondness and sorrow, all at the same time.

He had to find Cissy.

He had to bring her home.

He had to save her from whatever madness she'd been subjected to over the past three and a half days.

Somewhere in the distance, Hermione carefully climbed up the rotting staircase. She made a point to avoid the large, gaping holes and missing steps, wondering what on earth had happened to this place for it have been left in such a sad state. She couldn't imagine leaving her own home to rot away and collect dust, which made her thoughts drift to morbid places.

Perhaps the family had been murdered.

Perhaps that's where the smell came from.

Hermione swallowed hard and proceeded up the staircase, until reaching the top and heading straight into the bedrooms. She'd already covered her designated area in the bottom floor, using every spell necessary to determine whether or not Cissy had been there. No results. This left one course of action, and as Hermione made her way into the first bedroom and extended her wand arm to cast a spell that rested just on the tip of her tongue – something caught her eye.

There was a small, pint-sized bed in this room …and toys. That hollow feeling in her chest expanded, as she realized she was standing in a child's bedroom. It differed from Cissy's in the sense that the toys were all from the turn of the century and more often than not, broken to pieces. But the atmosphere was still the same. There had once been a child in this room. It had been a girl, judging by the dolls and the pinkish colour of the faded bed sheets. She had been young, probably five or six years old …and for some reason, she'd disappeared.

Hermione closed her eyes, taking a moment to refocus and push back the rush of emotion that clouded her vision. She had no time to have a cry in the middle of a stranger's bedroom. She had to find Cissy. She had to find Cissy and make sure the same thing didn't happen to her bedroom, and that Cissy would one day come home and play with all her toys, as she had been doing not too long ago.

The fire that had once ignited her veins returned, and Hermione made motion to leave the room. She got as far as brushing her hand along the doorframe, before glancing down and noticing a small wooden box with colours and designs that suggested it was Russian – probably imported.

She fell to her knees, mesmerized by the box, and opened it.

It was a music box.

It was a music box with a ballerina in the center, holding fifth position with her tiny arms curved above her tiny head, dressed in a white tutu. Hermione had a music box once. It had been given to her for her third birthday, from her late grandmother. As a child, she treasured that music box. It was her only escape, on the rare occasions that she had a row with her parents or when the other kids teased her at school. She would rush into her bedroom and turn the key to her music box, watching the ballerina spin to the delicate sounds emitted from her favourite item.

Out of pure instinct, she turned the key to this music box and waited …but nothing happened.

" –What are you doing?"

Hermione tumbled backwards, startled beyond her wits. She set down the music box and glanced up, finding her ex-husband standing at the doorway with an amused look about his face.

"Would it kill you to be less creepy?" she snapped, ignoring his extended hand, as she stood from the dirty floorboards.

Draco snorted with laughter and moved past her, further into the room. His expression fell as he connected the dots around him. "This must have been Olivia's room."

Hermione brushed the dirt from her robes. "Olivia?"

"I found her portrait downstairs," he explained, studying the toys and the view from the cracked window. "She can't have been much older than Cissy when she –"

_Yelling. Shouting. Bustling around. _

"Do you hear that?" Hermione asked, moving closer to him.

There were noises downstairs. Footsteps. Voices. It sounded as though there were two – maybe three – people. They were men. They were arguing about something. Their accents sounded vaguely American – and judging by the increase in clarity, they were definitely heading towards the child's bedroom. Draco shot his ex-wife a worried look, momentarily frozen in a state of panic. He opened his mouth to say something – anything – but no words came out.

"_Quick_," the bookish brunette whispered, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him into the wardrobe.

In a matter of seconds they were pressed into a space far too tight and far too small for two adults, but there was no choice. The voices approached with each fleeting second. Draco watched with wide eyes, as Hermione withdrew the Invisibility Cloak and draped it over them, reaching out from under it only once – to close the wardrobe with them inside. The door was broken in several places, giving them view out of their surroundings.

The air was thick.

The air was humid.

The uneasy feeling in his gut only increased with time, and as he leaned against the back panels of the wooden structure, Hermione leaned forward, practically on his lap. It was like they were school children hiding from the authorities – but they weren't school children. They were grown adults …and Draco couldn't help but think about the last time Hermione had been on his lap. It had been years ago, and the circumstances had quite obviously been different.

"I'm tellin' ya!" shouted a man, kicking the bedroom door wide open. "I heard somethin' comin' from here."

The first man was round and average in height, balding around the top of his head with tufts of dirty blond clinging to the sides. He looked about forty and had a wild, animalistic look about his face – similar to the likes of Peter Pettigrew.

His beady eyes scanned the expanse of the bedroom and then he grimaced. "I swear I ain't imaginin' thangs," he grumbled. "I heard somethin'. I heard somethin' like a woman scream."

Draco could feel Hermione tense up, and, on pure instinct, he laced their fingers together and rubbed over her pulse with the bud of his thumb, slowly, as he had been known to do during their short-lived relationship. It worked – but most of the tension in her arms and back resurfaced as the second man entered the bedroom.

This man was tall with a full head of black hair and a deranged look on his face. He looked about thirty – not too old, but old enough to have probably been in a rumble or two. Both men were dressed in Muggle clothes, but they weren't Muggles. Draco could see wands tucked into their pockets – crooked, menacing wands that reminded him of the one he'd stolen from Fenrir Greyback following the attack in Tuscany.

"Hunter, come look at this!" the fat one interjected, pointing to the music box. "I reckon we can sell this for a small fortune."

Hunter, the taller one, approached his accomplice's side and frowned. "That right there is a piece of garbage."

The fat one pursed his chubby lips and knelt down beside the music box, using his stubby fingers to pry it open …but it wouldn't budge. "It don't look like garbage to me."

"Shut your trap and keep movin'," Hunter ordered, moving swiftly to the door. "We got orders to keep this place in check. We don't have time for no lollygaggin'."

The fat one mumbled something under his breath and then heaved himself from the floor, making motion to follow his partner into the darkened corridor and then –

_Creak_

Hermione tightened her grip on Draco's hand. Her chest rose and fell with urgency, and she closed her eyes. She had shifted her weight, but only slightly. Draco could feel tremors circuit the length of her spine. He wished they could just break through the wardrobe and stun these buffoons into oblivion, but they couldn't risk being found out. It didn't matter if they out-dueled the southern American prowlers. If even the slightest word got out, about Cissy Malfoy's parents withholding information from the Auror Department, their cover would be blown and they would never find their daughter.

Secrecy was paramount.

"Now don't you tell me you didn't hear that!" the fat one growled, hungry for some action as he headed back into the room. "There's somethin' in here. I know it."

Hunter followed close behind, and instead of looking dismissive and bored out of his damned mind, he wore that same look of starvation, but he wasn't rabid and rat-like. He was covert, like a wolf. "You might be onto somethin', Jimmy."

Jimmy, the fat one, looked pleased with the assessment and proceeded to search under the bed and behind the curtains. He recovered nothing but the hiding place of a few insects, and then his attention drifted to the wardrobe.

"Well, go on then," Hunter persisted, gesturing to the wardrobe. "Show me this woman you've been ravin' on about."

Jimmy backed away. "That thing looks mighty dangerous. It – It might explode if I open it."

Hunter threw his partner a scornful look. "You're scared of a damned wardrobe?" he asked, turning around for a moment to see that his partner was ignoring him. "Fine. I'll do it myself." He removed the wand from his pocket and stepped towards the wardrobe.

His movements were slow and calculated; as though he knew they were hiding inside. It made the following few seconds all the more terrifying, and then, without a moment to spare, Hunter clasped his thick-knuckled fingers around the handle and opened the door to the wardrobe. He jerked forward, as if to lunge at whatever was waiting inside – but he saw nothing.

"No woman here," Hunter deduced, looking smug. He faced Jimmy. "No explosions neither."

Jimmy's face was red with embarrassment, as though his hunches were proven wrong on a frequent basis. "Maybe – Maybe she's wearin' one of those cloaks," he added, sounding hopeful. "The see through ones."

Hermione stiffened.

"Those ain't real, dumbass."

"They are!" Jimmy argued. "We don't got them back home in Louisiana but Eng_land_ has all kinds of those thangs."

Hunter released a derisive sigh, and extended his arm towards the wardrobe. "Go on and check then, genius."

Jimmy opened his mouth to argue – as he had done before – but his words fell short and a determined look veiled his otherwise frightened demeanour. He moved past Hunter, ignoring the scoff, and peered straight into the wardrobe, practically looking Hermione in the eyes.

Draco kept still.

It was happening. It had been a handful hours since the letter had been sent, since the group was formed, and already their plan was about to get blown to smithereens. He made sure his wand was ready, knowing Hermione had probably done the same. Her pulse quickened, in perfect conjunction with his …and they sat there in silence …waiting for the inevitable.

Jimmy moved closer and closer to the wardrobe, looking oddly terrified for someone so large and so intimidating in stature and build. Even his larger and more intimidating partner looked a little strung out during the last few seconds. Draco leaned forward, towards the inner curve of Hermione's neck and whispered something so faint and so soft, she didn't know if it was real, but there was no time to ask questions. There was only one thing left, and as the fat intruder extended his wobbly arm dead ahead …moving closer …moving faster …he touched something.

"Holy shit!" he shouted, stumbling backwards and fumbling with his wand. "I – I felt somethin'! I think I –"

**_BANG_**

Dust rose from the floorboards, as the manor came to life, like a corpse rising from the dead. The walls and floorboards quaked, and with each stir, the dirt and the soot atop every surface shot up in the air, unsettled after a century of peace. Jimmy cocked his head to the side and exchanged a frightened look with his partner.

**_BANG_**

Hunter swallowed hard and held his wand out. His eyes darted all over the place, and then he collided with one of the walls, jumping on the spot. "What the hell is goin' on?" he voiced.

**_BANG_**

Jimmy was too terrified to speak. He merely sat there, in a crumpled heap on the floor and turned a darker and deeper shade of purple with each second.

**_BANG _**

The men collected in the center of the room, about four or five feet from the wardrobe and Hunter dragged his partner onto his feet. They stood back-to-back and moved in circles.

**_BANG_**

"_What the hell d'you want_?" Hunter exclaimed, into nothingness. "Come out and show your damned face! Don't hide like a coward!"

Jimmy was shaking. "Don't – Don't make it angry," he snapped, refocusing on what was happening. "We – We'll leave the house! We won't come back, ya hear? I – I swear on my –"

The quaking stopped. The dust settled. The floorboards stopped moving. It appeared as though Jimmy's pleas had worked, long enough for some colour to return to his face, and then he inhaled, relieved. Hunter's wild eyes covered the area, as though he was searching for some terrifying, legendary creature to unveil itself and banish them from the manor. He skepticism grew, as Jimmy's faded into the background.

"It – It worked," Jimmy stuttered, in disbelief. "I can't fuckin' believe it! It actually –"

There were moments in Hermione's life, when she was a child and she would stay up past her bedtime. It would be late, around midnight, and she would stare at the ceiling, terrified, wondering where on earth those sounds were coming from. It was her family home. It was an old home, having once belonged to her great-grandparents, and with it were secrets from the past. It used to frighten her, back before she realized her house was simply shrinking and expanding due to temperature.

It terrified her so much that she couldn't sleep and couldn't move, scared that whatever entity had found its way into her home would see her and tear the flesh off her bones.

_Ghosts aren't real_, her father would say, in an attempt to comfort his young daughter. _No need to be scared, my love. Your mother and I are just down the hall._

But her father was wrong.

Ghosts _were_ real.

Hermione thought distantly of those memories, along with all the times she'd seen ghosts in Hogwarts, and suddenly …a chilling breeze swept through the bedroom. It swarmed over every surface and through every crack, enveloping the four people inside the bedroom in a blanket of blood curdling terror.

Jimmy and Hunter exchanged a quick look and sped to the door. There were no words to be said. There were no challenges to be made. The men raced across the bedroom and just barely made it a foot away from the exit, when suddenly an invisible force suspended their bodies in mid-air and tossed them against the opposing wall. There were screams. There were more gusts of wind, so hard and so strong that the Invisibility Cloak rippled away from the two people underneath – but there was no purpose in hiding.

The invisible force tossed Hunter's body through the window, without a moment of hesitation. His screams came to an abrupt halt as he made contact with the ground – _splat_.

Gone.

Dead.

Jimmy panted for breath and crawled backwards, away from where his partner had been. His face wasn't purple this time around. His face was the purest shade of white. He looked more terrified than Neville Longbottom during an oral presentation. He shook violently and folded his arms over his head, rocking back and forth as though he were a madman.

Then it came for him.

It lifted him into the air, as it had done earlier, and hurled him against the ceiling. Jimmy shouted for dear life and then – nothing. It was clear he'd been knocked dead or just barely.

In the midst of all the chaos, Draco and Hermione had crawled out of the wardrobe with their wands out, as if it made a difference. Draco instinctually held an arm over Hermione, pushing her behind him and whispering orders for her to _run _and _find help_ but she stood her ground.

Her eyes were focused and strong, but her fingers quivered around the narrow width of her wand. She was sweating. They were both sweating.

The only way to sense if an attack was coming, was by which way the dust moved. It hovered over Jimmy's lifeless body for about six or seven seconds, and then it swarmed towards them – towards Draco and Hermione – in large, ominous waves.

Hermione closed her eyes, breathing so heavily she began to choke. _I love you, Cissy. _

In front of her, Draco kept his eyes open, knowing their only hope was for him to get attacked first, providing Hermione with an exit. There were so many things running through his mind. There were so many regrets, so many things he could have done different, and so many aspects of his life that could have been better.

But the only important aspect was his family. His family was broken. He lost his wife. He lost his daughter. Soon enough, he would lose everything.

It was happening.

The malevolent energy shot towards them, carrying dirt and broken fragments of toys and floorboards with it, coming so close and so fast that Draco couldn't handle it anymore. He cried out into nothingness and turned around, wrapping his arms around Hermione and doing the only thing he could, the only thing he wished to do before darkness found him.

He kissed her.

She kissed back.

It wasn't sexual or feathery. It was urgent. It was ridden with remorse. It consumed them. It was an escape, a glimpse into the past and the future that could have been.

It was brilliant.

It was heartbreaking.

It was a confession, a private exchange between two people who were supposed to despise one another.

More than anything, it stretched on for far too long, so long that it turned from an act of desperation to an act of actual pleasure. Draco cupped Hermione's cheeks and kissed her as best he could with quivering lips. She did the same, using her hands to grasp his broad shoulders. For a moment, it felt as though they had traveled back in time …a simpler time …a time when these kisses were frequent and heated and almost always led to further acts.

But their moment drew to an end, when something, a sound, dragged them back to reality.

It was music.

Hermione was the first to pull away. Her lips were swollen and her cheeks were flushed. She glanced down, afraid of what look could possibly be on Draco's face. The voice in her head was screaming at her, but she ignored it. Her attention shifted to something else.

The energy, the force, the thing that had tossed both Jimmy and Hunter around like rag dolls, had collected into a single figure. It was hazy and smoke-like, but Hermione knew what she was looking at – or rather – who.

It was a little girl, dressed in white with dark hair and curious eyes, kneeling down with the music box in her tiny lap. That's where the sound had come from. The music had finally started to play. It sounded vaguely like Tchaikovsky, which confirmed Hermione's earlier suspicions about the music box being Russian-made. The ballerina twirled delicately, dancing to the music and capturing the little girl in its magic.

Hermione moved towards the scene.

Draco's fingers brushed over her shoulder, as he tried to make a grab and keep her still. "_What are you doing_?"

She wasn't bothered. "Just give me a moment."

Her former flame didn't look at all comfortable with the idea of letting her approach this – this ethereal being – but there was no choice in the matter.

Hermione moved closer and closer, until the little girl glanced up at her. She tried to smile but the little girl moved backwards, looking strangely scared. "It's okay, it's okay," Hermione said, holding her hands up in surrender. "I'm not here to hurt you. I just want to talk."

The little girl bit her bottom lip, glanced down at her music box and then turned the key once more to reset the melody.

Hermione knelt down, about three feet away and used every bit of courage she had to remain calm and composed. This was their only chance. "Is your name Olivia?" she asked, in a completely nonthreatening manner.

The little girl nodded, dazzled by the ballerina.

"That's a pretty music box. Did you parents give that to you?"

The little girl nodded again. "Daddy," she whispered.

Hermione was startled by the voice – so sweet and so soft. "That was nice of him. I – I have a daughter around your age, and one day I plan on giving her a music box just like that one," she explained, feeling that maternal instinct kick in, as the ghost girl tilted her head up and smiled.

"How old is she?" Olivia asked.

"She's four," Hermione answered nicely. "I – I was hoping to get her a music box for her fifth birthday, but there's a problem."

Olivia pressed her lips together, looking worried. "What's the problem?"

The air turned thick again and Hermione felt tears collect all around her eyes. "My daughter is missing," she said, speaking those words for the first time since it happened. "Her name is Cissy – Narcissa."

"What's your name?" Olivia asked.

"My name is Hermione," she answered. "You remind me a lot of my daughter. She – She has hair like yours, except hers is light blonde."

Olivia set down her music box and reached for something underneath the bed. It took a few moments, but she eventually returned with a silver locket. It was open. "Your daughter sounds like this girl," she said, holding the locket out.

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath, exchanging a quick look with Draco. She then turned back to Olivia and, slowly, took hold of the locket. It had two pictures inside, and it was engraved with the letters _NM_.

"May – May I ask where you found this?" Hermione furthered, feeling a single tear roll down her cheek.

"The little girl in the pictures left it here," Olivia kindly answered.

Hermione took a quivering breath. "Is the little girl still here?"

Olivia shook her head. "She's gone, just like the others."

"What do you mean _gone_?" Hermione asked.

"They took her away."

A gradual silence fell over them. Hermione could feel Draco approaching them, careful not to move too fast. He then knelt down beside his ex-wife and looked to their only source.

"I'm Narcissa's father," he introduced. "She's the girl in those pictures. I – I gave that locket to her three days ago, after a wedding."

Olivia's eyes brightened. "She said her parents would come looking for her."

"You spoke to her?" Hermione asked.

Olivia nodded. "Just once. She was nice to me. She wasn't mean like the others."

Draco gave Hermione's hand a light squeeze, and she continued. "What did she say?"

"She said she was afraid," the little girl responded, looking down. "I tried to help her but the mean people trapped me in the music box and took her away before I could do anything."

"You were trapped in the music box?" Draco asked.

Olivia nodded again. "The pretty lady released me when she turned the key. That – That's why I pushed those funny men."

She did a little more than just push them, but Hermione and Draco were still thankful. Hermione continued the conversation. "Thank you for helping us," she smiled, feeling more tears fall, the more she heard about Cissy. "But – erm – do you know where the mean people took Narcissa?"

Olivia shook her head. "They just left."

"Do you remember what they looked like?" Draco asked.

Olivia glanced at him. "Like me," she answered. "But they were alive."

Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes and moved closer to the little girl, out of instinct. "Thank you for helping our daughter, Olivia. I – I'm glad she had the chance to make friends with someone so bright and beautiful."

"Will – Will you find her?" Olivia inquired.

"Yes," Draco answered, sounding more confident than he felt. "And when we do, we'll bring her back here so she can thank you herself."

Olivia beamed. "Oh, I would love that so much."

Hermione's heart broke for this girl. "Narcissa will be overjoyed. You're her first friend, you know?" It was true. Their daughter wasn't yet in school and had no cousins or neighbour children to play with. She had only her parents and her imagination, which seemed like more than enough most days. "Thank you for speaking with us and helping us in our search. I – I don't want to go but we must. Narcissa is waiting for us …somewhere in the world."

The glee in Olivia's expression faded into the smoke-like haze that was her being. "You're leaving me?"

"Just for the time being," Draco answered quickly, having a soft spot for sad little girls, as most fathers do. "We'll come back with Narcissa, and then we'll take you to a place with other children, so you'll never be alone. It – It's called Hogwarts and you'll make loads of friends there."

"Hogwarts?" Olivia repeated, sounding hopeful. "I – I know Hogwarts. It's a school."

Hermione nodded, smiling. "It is. It's a lovely place."

Olivia stood up and clapped her hands together, mirroring the little girl in the pictures. She was shaking with exhilaration. "I _love_ that idea. Find your daughter and – and come back and – and take me to Hogwarts!" She looked so lively, so animated despite her circumstances. "I've always wanted to go to Hogwarts!"

"You'll be there very soon," Hermione assured the girl, reflecting her enthusiasm. "Thank you again, Olivia. Thank you for everything you've done."

There were more farewells exchanged, followed closely by some more bursts of excitement from Olivia …and then Draco and Hermione looked to one another with the one thing that had been so hard to come by over the past three days: hope.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Don't forget to leave a review. **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	6. Cloaks and Buttons

**A/N: Sorry it took so long to update! Personal matters, blah, blah, blah - but I'm back and ready to go. This chapter will probably get mixed reviews, but it will all make sense very soon. Well, I hope haha. Enjoy! **

Draco found his place near the window and peered through the glass barrier with a world of depth in those smoky orbs. It had been an hour since he and Hermione had arrived at their decided rendezvous point, in _The Leaky Cauldron_. Severus had arranged for a room in the establishment, knowing the team would need a meeting place other than Hermione's flat. It wasn't safe to draw attention to her home. The media had already managed to catch wind of their tight-knit group's little reunion.

"Is it time to worry?" Hermione asked, having spoken for the first time since the pair of them left Olivia's bedroom.

As it turned out, Snape and Theo were late. This wouldn't have baffled Draco in the slightest, had the other pair not been under Snape's command. That man was nothing if not punctual. Something had to have happened. It's not like _Gringotts _was particularly far from _The Leaky Cauldron_. Their journey shouldn't have taken more than an hour or two. But it had since been four.

"I'm going to owl Louise," Hermione decided, making her way to the desk propped against the far wall. "I'm sure she knows something we don't."

Draco turned his attention to the brunette. "I doubt it."

Louise was Severus' girlfriend from Manhattan, whom he had told the group about shortly before leaving with Nott. None of them had heard of her before then, but they were glad Severus had finally found himself a girlfriend. It must have been tough being single for so long, when everyone around him was either married or in a relationship.

"Hold on," Draco interjected, before Hermione had a chance to dip her Quill into a pot of ink. "I'll go to _Gringotts _and see what's happened, if anything at all."

She folded her arms. "I don't like the idea of splitting up."

"Then come with me," he suggested. "There's no reason to worry Louise. I'm sure Snape is out there somewhere, doing what he does best and solving this damned thing."

"What about Theodore?" Hermione voiced, staring between her ex-husband's eyes. "I can't risk anything happening to him." She exhaled, growing more anxious by the second. "He was already uncomfortable about going vigilante. This isn't fair to him."

"I know," Draco agreed, speaking the truth. "But we both know Theo isn't safe to be around — not until we break the Imperius Curse."

She swallowed hard, having thought about this earlier. "You're saying he could have attacked Severus."

Draco nodded. "I realize it's not our ideal situation, but it's possible."

Hermione closed her a eyes a moment. "You're right. I just —"

The words were caught in her throat. She couldn't help but feel as though what happened between them in Olivia's bedroom was in direct correlation with Severus and Theo's disappearance. Karma.

"You stay here and I'll go to _Gringotts_," she decided. "It will look too suspicious if we're seen together."

"I'll wear the Invisibility Cloak," Draco strategized, sounding rather desperate to keep them together. "Nobody will suspect a thing."

Hermione scrunched her mouth to the side, in thought. "I think you might be too tall to walk about in it."

"Both our bodies managed just fine in the wardrobe," he countered. "I'm sure I can manage on my own."

"We were also squished together and contorted like Tetris blocks."

Draco arched an eyebrow. "Tetris blocks?"

"It's a Muggle game," Hermione mumbled. "I just — I don't know. I suppose _I_ could hide under the Invisibility Cloak."

"No, you can't," Draco disagreed, clearly having thought this through. "We need access to Nott's vault, and I'm not the one dating him."

This was true. Theodore had granted her secondary access to his vault a couple months prior to Ron and Gemma's wedding. This meant she could go there in his stead — if ever he was unfit or unwilling to do so.

Hermione sighed with resolve, knowing there was only one course of action. She strolled to the desk, where the Invisibility Cloak was folded in a neat square and handed it to Draco.

It was alarming, the number of times this velvety fabric had come in handy since Harry opened it on Christmas morning all those years ago. The cloak had seen countless adventures, countless wins and countless losses. It was as much a part of their group as either of them, and Hermione appreciated it more than words could ever describe. Without it, who knows what would have happened.

Draco unfolded it and draped it over his head, crouching down several inches in order to keep his boots concealed. "Can you see me?"

Hermione stared straight through him. "Not even a little," she answered. "You're invisible."

* * *

Draco moved around her, feeling oddly childish under the magical garment. It was no wonder Potter and the others got up to so much mischief back in Hogwarts. He would surely have joined them, had he known they had an Invisibility Cloak to play around with. It was only in his later years, did he discover their secret.

"Is it crowded out there?" he asked, startling the girl as he changed his position from the window to the opposite wall, near the doorway.

Hermione took one look and nodded. "You'll have to stay close."

"Not a problem," Draco voiced, opening the door and watching as the brunette's eyes searched through nothingness for a single trace of him. "Let's do this."

It was strangely satisfying.

The pair moved from _The Leaky Cauldron _and through the brick wall, getting a proper look at _Diagon Alley _for the first time in years. Draco hadn't been there since before the war. Seeing as he was rarely in town, he did most of his private banking via owl post. Hermione, on the other hand, seemed right at ease in the midst of all the families and children. She took the lead and practically sprinted across the cobblestone, from the Inn to the large, towering bank ahead.

_Gringotts _was the tallest, and arguably the oldest and most revered structure within _Diagon Alley_. It carried everyone's secrets, including his own. Draco remembered the last time he had been there. It was shortly after his initiation into Pureblood supremacy. He'd traversed _Knockturn Alley _with his mother and Fenrir Greyback, in order to get a proper look at the Vanishing Cabinet hidden there.

It was a different lifetime.

Draco focused on the witch in front of him. She was moving fast — so fast that he lost sight. He called out to her, knowing this was a profoundly dumb thing to do, but it was all he had. The wizard spun on the spot and took off the cloak, glancing from one end of the alley to the other. She was gone. She was gone. She was gone. People were all around him, but none of them were her.

"_Malfoy_!"

There was shouting. Someone was calling him — but the voice wasn't Hermione's. It was male. It was familiar. He turned around and spotted Severus Snape in front of _Ollivander's — _alone and winded

Draco sprinted towards him. "_What happened_?" he demanded. "_Where have you been? Hermione and I came out looking for you and_ — wait —" His gaze darted around the area. "Where's Nott?"

"In the — In the vault. I — I barely escaped —" Snape choked out, as though he'd trekked a mountain. "No — No time. Find — Find Hermione before —"

"Before what?" Draco urged, grabbing his former Potions Master by the shoulders and forcing him to muster enough energy to continue. "_Before what_?"

Snape stumbled backwards, against the exterior of the wand shop. Something had happened. Something dangerous.

"_Spit it out_," Draco exclaimed, fearing the worst and staring between his beady eyes. "What the bloody hell happened?"

"Nott," Severus uttered, wearing a look that spoke volumes and confirmed every suspicion that had been floating around their heads since the wedding. "He's — He's crooked."

* * *

Hermione glanced behind her, wondering if it was safe to speak to Draco whilst he was under the cloak. It wasn't. People were looking at her. The goblins eyed her from their desks, whilst the others whispered behind her back. The entirety of wizarding Britain knew her daughter was kidnapped. She was sure they expected her to be a grieving mess — which she was — but little did they know, there were other things at play.

The goblin in front was cold and distant, but ended up co-operating with her and escorting her to Theodore's vault. The journey was as tough and bumpy as she remembered. But something felt slightly off. She glanced behind and noticed there was no weight in the back of the mining cart, meaning Draco wasn't there. An uneasy feeling tugged at her gut.

"Here we are," announced the goblin, stepping off the cart as it came to a halt deep into the bank. "Vault six hundred and eighty-nine."

Hermione followed suit and stifled the discomfort in her muscles. She had to be brave. She had to do this — not only to make sure Theo and Severus were safe, but for Cissy as well.

She nodded her head in thanks to the goblin and watched as the mechanisms on the vault door unlatched and unlocked for her. Theo had arranged for her to have secondary access into his vault, but she hadn't yet taken advantage of this privilege until then. She had her own money. She had her own vault.

The goblin waited outside and left her to it.

She scanned the contents in Theo's vault and immediately noticed the tiny velvet box propped on a table in the centre. There was a hitch in her breathing.

Hermione moved towards it and opened the box, laying eyes on what looked like an engagement ring. Suddenly, Theo's reluctance in letting her accompany him to the vault made sense. She swallowed hard, feeling her chest rise and fall at an alarming rate.

"I was going to propose this week," Theo said from behind.

She turned around and saw him, limping with one hand grasping the wall. "_What happened to you_?" Hermione asked, forgetting about the ring. She moved towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders, bringing him in for a quick kiss. Her hands grazed the sides of his face, soothingly. "I was so worried. I thought you — you —"

The words were caught in her throat. Something didn't feel right. Something about this situation seemed off.

"Where's Severus?" she asked, glancing around.

Theo's expression went from strained to somber. "I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but you have to listen to me." He took a deep, even breath. "Severus is not to be trusted."

Hermione took a step back, colliding with one of the tables. "What are you talking about?"

"The potion he's been giving me isn't meant to block the Imperius Curse," Theo explained, sounding as though even he barely believed the words coming from his mouth. "It's poison. It's slow-acting poison."

She stared at him, bewildered. "You're saying Severus Snape poisoned you?"

Her boyfriend nodded. "It's insane — I know — but —"

"Why would he do that?"

"I guess he thinks I kidnapped Cissy on my own accord," Theo ventured, scratching the back of his head. "I have no idea. I just — I remember him being here one second and then I remember this sharp feeling in my chest and the next thing I know, I'm sprawled on the floor with blood coming out of my mouth." The evidence was there, all over his shirt, his teeth and gums and on various part of the floor. Crimson. Blood. "He left me here to die."

Her eyes widened. "I — I —"

"Please," Theo continued, stepping towards her at a slow pace and brushing the hair from her face. "You have to believe me. I know this sounds ridiculous. I'm not even sure I believe it myself."

Hermione breathed in, instinctively feeling for her wand. The slim piece of wood gave her the sense of security she craved during moments like these, moments in which she was missing something — _someone_.

"I managed to choke out most of the potion before it was too late," he continued, pressing his lips on her forehead. "I know things between us haven't been solid for the past week but — but all I could think about while I was laying here waiting to die was how much this year with you has meant to me."

"It means a lot to me, too," Hermione reciprocated, feeling chills crawl the length of her spine.

Theodore held her tighter, as though she might vanish, and managed to squeeze the wand from her grasp. It fell to the floor and rolled away from them, about six or seven feet. She could feel Theo tense up, and for some reason, a bout of nerves exploded in her gut.

"I figured you wouldn't believe me," he voiced, sounding anything but distraught or hurt.

Hermione inhaled, shakily. "Tell me — Tell me what's going on, Theo."

"You know," he started, lifting her up and onto one of the tables. "I've been with you for _ages _and in all this time, we've never had sex."

The muscle in her chest grew fast and furious with its pumps. She could practically _feel_ her skin begin to bruise, where Theo's hands were. Her wrists. Her shoulders. Her thighs.

"_What are you doing_?" Hermione demanded. "Th — Theo, stop."

The young man leaned into her, positioning himself between her legs and grazing his lips along her neck. It was true. They had been together for ages, and yet, she had never slept with him — not once. It wasn't usually an issue between them. He was always good about waiting and giving her the time and space she needed. But right then, something about him felt different.

Nott pulled her head back — slowly — with one hand through hair and the other unbuttoning her blouse.

"You have the most beautiful neck," he commented. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

Hermione dug her nails into his hands, attempting to rid them from her face and hair and body and clothes. "This isn't you, Theo." She spoke fiercely and passionately — but inside her thoughts were far from scattered and broken. "This is the curse. This is the Imperius Curse. That's all. Just — Just fight it. Please — Please, Theo."

Her boyfriend laughed, evenly. "I'm not under the Imperius Curse," he whispered, directly over her left ear. "I never have been."

"But — But —"

There was movement behind them. Someone else was there. Someone light on their feet — perhaps female. Someone who knelt down and lifted Hermione's wand from the floor.

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Don't forget to tell me what you think. I'm not sure if anyone is wondering, but we will have some Ron and Gemma in this story - and some more of Louise. Stay tuned for the next chapter! **

**Cheers**

**xo**


	7. Two-Way Mirrors and Meryl Streep

Draco tore through the streets, pushing through passersby and making his way towards the enormous structure in the heart of Diagon Alley. His heart was racing. His insides were jumbled. His mind was buzzing. The world whizzed by, in flashes of faces and voices — and even some shouts — but none of that mattered.

The soles of his boots screeched against the bank floor, and several of the goblins eyed the entrance with suspicion.

None of them could, of course, see him, given his use of the Invisibility Cloak. It would probably have fared him better, had he entered the bank as himself and requested to enter his own vault, before jinxing one of the goblins and making his way to Nott's vault. But there was too much at stake and he needed to think of the long-term as well as the short-term.

It was wiser to do things this way, to remain hidden and unseen, and therefore conceal his vigilantism.

Draco tip-toed to the centre of the bank, where he got a clear earful of the people walking in and their names. The vaults were apparently organized in alphabetical order, and he needed one near vault number six hundred and eighty-nine. There were dozens of people walking in and out, but none of them provided him with the pieces he needed.

Several minutes passed.

The uneasy feeling boiling in his stomach increased with each second. Severus' warning had been clear. Nott was crooked, meaning unsafe and untrustworthy. Draco had suspected as much from the moment he realized Cissy had gone missing under Nott's watch, but he tried not to think about it that way for Hermione's sake.

There was, however, no more time to be courteous.

This was do or die.

He'd already lost his daughter. He couldn't lose Hermione, too. He couldn't lose his family. Because that's what Hermione had grown to be — despite all their bickering and disagreements and despite the divorce. She was his blood, bone, heart and soul.

"Alistair Norwood," spoke a gentleman close-by, to one of the goblins.

Draco's ears perked up, similar to a hound. He followed Alistair and the goblin to the mining carts and entered behind, careful to place his weight evenly, as to not strike anymore suspicion.

The cart zoomed and whizzed and whirled through the depths of Gringotts. It was going so hard and so fast, Draco almost forgot to pay attention to the numbers blurring past on his right. They were going in increasing order, and without a moment to spare, he took an enormous leap of faith and felt the world grow silent and still all around him.

* * *

Severus tumbled into his room in _The Leaky Cauldron _and rummaged through his things for a small, rectangular mirror — about the size of a compact. It was aged and covered in dust, but in that moment, it was integral to his wellbeing. The man sunk low, onto the floor and stared into the mirror until another face stared back at him.

Her hair was long and auburn, and her face was as warm and welcoming as the morning sky.

She nodded once, and without further notice, Severus allowed for the mirror to slip from his fingertips. His wand was broken in two pieces. There were bruises all over his arms and legs. He was in bad shape, to say the least. There was blood on his clothes, but it wasn't his own blood. It belonged to Nott — to Theodore Nott — to the one man he had refused to suspect in all of this chaos.

The potion Severus had given Nott was meant to combat the Imperius Curse, and it was illegal because incorrect consumption — such as, consumption by those who are _not _under the Imperius Curse — could potentially cause death.

Part of Severus had a feeling Nott had been lying to them all along. Part of Severus had known to separate Nott from Hermione and Draco; thereby keeping an eye on him. Part of Severus had known to bring a vial of this anti-Imperius potion, just in case.

That part of him was now worn out and exhausted and ultimately beaten by his own triumph in being right.

Merlin, did he hate being right.

"_Severus_," came a voice from the door.

His attention drifted to the structure and he found Louise standing there, in the same perfection he had left her.

Before departing from Manhattan — from his lover — Severus had arranged an emergency Port Key for her that led directly to _The Leaky Cauldron_. He had hoped never to use this Port Key, never to be in such dire need of help that he would put Louise's life in danger, but there was no choice in the matter. The two-way mirror was his way of communicating an emergency to her, and all that was left was for her to take the Port Key, which she clearly did.

His energy was slipping away — bit by bit.

Louise closed the door behind her and rushed to his side, wrapping her slender arms around him with purpose. Her body was shaking, but she wasn't crying. He could tell she wanted to. He could tell she was making an enormous effort to stay calm and stay strong, for him. They had only known each other a short while, but something about her, something about their instant bond, made both of them feel at home.

She had the best heart of anyone he had ever met.

"Tell me what happened," Louise whispered to him, separating, but only so she could see his face.

Severus swallowed, ignoring the pain from doing so. "I — I was ambushed."

"By?"

"Theodore Nott," he choked out, having sent Louise various coded letters explaining what was going on in London, explaining everything to do with Cissy's disappearance and the possible culprits.

Louise's expression went from passionate concern to horror. "That — That —" An alarming silence fell over her, and for a moment he wondered if she was strong enough to bear this news, but the bewilderment in her facial features disappeared as fast as it had come. She nodded her head in acceptance. "Just tell me what I have to do and I'll do the hell out of it."

Severus appreciated her loyalty and her adorable lingo, but he couldn't smile long enough to show her. There was pain. In all places. "Go to Azkaban and speak with Richard Forbes about his niece."

Her eyes widened at the mention of Azkaban Prison. "Whatever it takes."

"Pose as — as a journalist," he continued, coughing through his words. "You want to write a book about the Forbes family, about one of the most powerful Pureblood families ever to have existed…and their downfall."

Louise nodded, taking mental notes. "I'll do it," she uttered, as brave as she could. "I'll put up the best acting performances anyone has ever seen. I'll — I'll give Meryl Streep a run for her money."

"I don't know who Meryl Streep is," Severus started, placing a hand on his lover's cheek. "But I'm sure she pales in comparison to the woman in front of me."

There was something building in Louise's chest, an unexpected yet eagerly anticipated emotion. She closed her eyes and leaned in, breathing in Severus' scent. "What about you? I can't just leave you here, not like this."

"I'll be — I'll be fine," Severus assured her, despite his quickly deteriorating health. "The others will be here soon."

Something about his claims didn't sit well with Louise. From her vantage point, it appeared as though _the others _— Draco and Hermione — were equally, if not more screwed than their former Potions Master. She wondered what fate awaited them, but most important, she wondered about Richard Forbes and his family's significance.

"Go now," Severus told the girl. "Before everything falls apart."

Louise had held back her emotion until that point, but she couldn't anymore. A single tear rolled down her cheek. "Don't make me leave you," she whispered, thankful Severus couldn't see her face from their tight embrace. "Not in this way."

"I'll be right here waiting for you," he vowed. "You have my word."

She exhaled. "But —"

"It'll take a lot more than an ambush in Gringotts for you to get rid of me," Severus interjected, feeling the gentle shake of her body's laugh soothe his own body's ache. "I promise you that."

Louise nodded, lingering in their embrace for another moment, before pulling away and pressing her lips against his. "I'm taking you straight to bed, when this is over."

"I'm not sure my body can handle that in its current state," he joked. "But I'm still looking forward to it."

She opened her mouth, feeling laughter in her core, along with crippling anxiety. Her life in Manhattan had been somewhat sheltered, despite her profession. She had never gotten into any crazy situations, any life-threatening scenarios. She had always kept a safe distance from danger — but danger now called to her and held the life of her lover in the balance.

Severus closed his eyes and the gap between them with another kiss, for as long as he could. The feeling brewing in his chest cavity came to life when Louise was there. Her smile. Her eyes. Her bright, beautiful voice. Her laughter. Her touch.

He hadn't felt this way for a very, very long time. There were only three words strong enough to describe this emotion, this driving force. "I — I —"

"I know," Louise interjected, pressing her forehead against his, hoping this act would seal the bond forged in the wake of their passion. "I do, too."

That was all he needed to hear. That was all he needed to know.

* * *

Hermione's eyes fluttered open. She was in pain. Her clothes were torn in several places. There was blood on her forehead, from the fall. There was also a piercing ache snaking through the insides of her skull. It was cripplingly, mind-numbingly difficult to think, let alone respond to the voice in the background.

She could hear someone. She could hear something. She could feel hands on her — two hands — different from Theodore's harsh grip. These hands were gentle. These hands were familiar.

"_Hermione. Look at me. Keep your eyes open._"

She tried to listen. She forced her eyelids open, every time they started to droop. It took several moments for her to remember where she was or what happened. But the pieces slowly fell into the place, the longer she stayed conscious. She had been in Theodore's vault, searching for him and Severus, when suddenly he turned on her and — and —

"The — The girl —" Hermione breathed, moaning against the pain in her chest. "She — She took my — my wand."

"_Which girl_?" asked that same familiar voice. "_Stay with me, Hermione. Come on. Help me through this. I need you_."

The brunette knew that voice. It was the same voice she imagined when she was in trouble. It was the voice that came to her during a moment of need, a moment of uncertainty. It was Draco's voice. It was him. Draco was there.

She struggled to tilt her head to the side and spotted him hovering over her with his hair a mess and his eyes wide with concern.

Draco sat her up, practically in his lap, and rubbed her shoulders up and down. His warmth felt good against her skin, which was mostly bare given the state Theodore had left her in. Her torso had been stripped bare, save for her bra, and her skirt was yanked and torn.

There was something around her, an unfamiliar garment that she recognized to be a man's blazer. It was Draco's.

Her head was resting against him, against his upper abdomen, where he cradled her in his arms and waited for the energy to return to her body.

"I — I stunned Theodore with his — his wand," Hermione forced out. "I — I thought she was going to — going to kill me but — but all she did was — was jinx me and escape with — with him."

Draco remained calm and patient throughout her struggles. "Did you get a good look at this girl's face?"

"N — No," she choked. "Long — Long hair. Dark hair."

"Better than nothing," he uttered, buttoning the blazer onto her torso. "I'm getting you out of here and back home."

Hermione shook her head. "No — No," she urged. "Sev — Severus. What — What about him?"

"I'm sending Ron to help him," Draco explained, having already lifted her into his arms.

"I need to speak with Severus," she said, regaining most of her strength. "It's important."

"Listen," the wizard told her, staring between her eyes. "You're in shock right now. You were attacked. I need to get you home. I need to make sure you're not hurt."

Hermione moved out of his grip and struggled to stand. She was wobbly for the first few seconds, but she soon found her balance. "I'm — I'm fine. I was just winded from the fall."

"You're not fine," Draco argued, rising. "Nott attacked you. He — He —"

"He didn't rape me," she interjected, before her ex-husband could get the words out. "He might have tried, but I had him stunned within moments — using _his _wand."

The wizard gave her a knowing look, acutely aware of her abilities on the battlefield. "I wish I was there for that maneuver."

"You could have been," Hermione furthered, ignoring the lingering aches. "What happened to you? I thought you were behind me."

"I was," Draco added. "But it was hard to keep up with you under the cloak. I lost you within minutes and spotted Snape near _Ollivander's_. He was in hysterics. He told me there was an ambush in the vault, after he realized Nott was crooked."

She nodded. "I saw the blood."

"It was from the potion," the young man continued. "It's dangerous to anyone who isn't actually under the Imperius Curse."

Hermione remembered the sight of blood on Theodore's teeth and gums and clothes. She had initially worried for him, but that worry was now replaced with seething hatred and because of her own misreadings, humiliation.

"Do you have any idea where this girl could possibly have taken him?" Draco asked, recognizing her train of thought.

"Not a clue," she reluctantly answered. "But I do know something."

**A/N: Next chapter should be up soon. Let's get this finished, shall we? **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	8. Dittany and Dementors

**A/N: You may want to re-read Chapter 8 of "Sleeping Beauty" (the one when Hermione checks into The Wyvern Wing and bails on Draco to hang out with pre-psychotic William) before reading this chapter. **

"Really," Hermione repeated, for what felt like the millionth time. "I'm fine."

Ron didn't appear half as convinced as she'd hoped.

The young man had come to hers and Severus' aid following the ambush in Gringotts, and brought with him some dinner along with a nice blueberry pie.

As it turned out, Ron and Gemma had not gone on their honeymoon. Neither of them felt right going on holiday whilst Cissy was still missing. Hermione would have tried to convince them otherwise, but she hadn't been sane enough during those initial days of Cissy's disappearance to notice her friends had canceled their trip to Mykonos.

"You need to eat something," Ron reasoned, having a seat beside her at the kitchen table. The group had decidedly relocated back to Hermione's flat — a sound decision given Severus' current state. "Draco told me you haven't had a bite since the wedding."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "He hasn't eaten anything either," she tattled. "And since when do you call him _Draco_?"

"Since now," the redheaded wizard retorted, shoving a plate full of food towards her. "_Eat_."

She grimaced, glancing at the plate. It was roast dinner — her favourite — and smelled rather delicious. "When did you learn to cook?"

"Gemma made it."

"Hmm," Hermione lifted a fork from her place setting. "Then maybe I _will _eat it."

Ron arched an eyebrow, and then shrugged. "Whatever gets meat on those bones."

The first bite tasted delicious. The bites that followed even more so. This was the longest she had gone without eating solid food since, well, ever. The only times she had missed meals before, were due to work or a rather fascinating book that she just _had _to finish before doing anything else.

Food didn't beckon to her, the way it did to Ron or to Draco. She had an appetite for one thing and one thing only: knowledge.

Hermione scraped the last bits from her near-empty plate, acutely aware of Ron's curious stare. There was no doubt in her mind that he was floored by the manner in which she ravaged Gemma's roast dinner. It wasn't her fault Gemma was a good cook. But it _was _her fault that she hadn't eaten in about three days.

"Merlin's beard," Ron remarked, a cross between amused and repulsed. "And they say I'm a pig."

"_Shuddup_," Hermione frowned, munching down on her last mouthful.

There were voices coming from the guest bedroom, undoubtedly nurse Gemma speaking with Severus. The charming Muggle girl had taken it upon herself to look after him, whilst he recovered from the ambush. Hermione wasn't sure which jinxes and/or curses had gone flying his way, but she was sure the spells were deadly and in large quantity.

She barely recognized him, back in _The Leaky Cauldron_. The only reason he had even survived had been due to her own quick-thinking, in reviving some of his strength with the use of dittany, and Draco's steady-handed application of the acclaimed ingredient.

"So what happened in the vault?" Ron asked, having kept a fair distance from the subject until then.

It seemed as though everyone, including Draco, felt the need to tip-toe around the fact that Nott, a man Hermione had trusted with her own child, had been the culprit all along — or at least one of them. She herself tried not to think about it in such a way. To her, Nott was no longer Theodore. To her, Nott was no longer her boyfriend. To her, Nott was simply a name on her list of targets.

But inside, things were different.

She wasn't hurt. She wasn't even embarrassed. She was, however, profoundly disappointed in her own judgment.

"I have horrible taste in men," Hermione uttered, staring blankly into the distance.

Ron gave her a knowing look. "He had all of us fooled. It's not your fault."

She sighed. "This isn't even about me. It's about Cissy. I gathered everyone together and risked all our livelihoods in order to find my daughter, but all we've managed to do is run around in circles and injure half the team."

"Snape is going to be fine," Ron assured her. "And now that you've eaten, you'll be fine, too." The ease in which he consoled her was shocking, given his previous reputation of being the most inconsiderate human being ever to exist. Being with Gemma really had changed him, for the better. "Just focus on getting your strength back, and we'll have the kidnapper's head on a silver platter come morning. I promise."

Hermione tossed him a look with her eyebrow firmly arched. "You can't promise that."

"I can," he disagreed, looking as though he knew something she didn't. "I'm sure Draco will come back with everything we need to track down the kidnapper."

"Just say it," she blurted. "Nott. Nott is the kidnapper. The man I welcomed into mine and my daughter's life is the kidnapper."

Ron placed a hand on her shoulder, comfortingly. "Listen to me," he instructed, speaking with an air of wisdom she did not recognize. "You've been through an incredible amount of loss. It started with the Second Wizarding War and it has now continued, with your daughter's disappearance." Hearing it out loud like that tugged at the muscles in her chest. "Nott betrayed you, but that's _his _weakness, not yours. Do not, under any circumstances, blame yourself for opening your heart and your home to him. You did what a lot of people don't have the strength to do in tough situations — and that's love. You found love in the most unlikely place with the most unlikely person."

The brunette breathed in, bewildered. "I had no idea you were so…so deep," she remarked, only half-joking. "But you're wrong about one thing."

"What's that?" he asked.

"You said I found love in the most unlikely place with the most unlikely person," Hermione continued. "But I never loved Nott."

The expression on Ron's face turned solid with conviction. "I wasn't talking about him, when I said that."

She could have furthered the conversation. She could have pestered him for answers and clarification, but Hermione had known Ron long enough to understand his train of thought.

Her own thoughts drifted _there, _to that special place.

It had been years since their divorce, and yet, everything was so fresh.

The longing.

The laughter.

The love.

The hurt…

"Hermione?" Ron asked, sensing the change in her mood. "I know it's not my place to ask, and I've refrained from doing so over the past few years, but —" She looked to him, feeling it coming. "What happened?"

There were countless responses to that question, countless things she could have said that would have sounded perfectly believable — and even true on some level or another — but Hermione couldn't lie to him, nor to herself.

She closed her eyes.

"I — I don't regret having Cissy," she began, feeling her voice break. "But having her at such a young age was stressful on both myself and Draco, and even though we did the best we could to love her and to provide her with a beautiful home and every toy she could possibly want…we forgot one thing." The feeling in her chest deepened. "We forgot to love each other."

The legs on Ron's chair screeched against the hardwood floor, as he scooted closer and handed Hermione one of the unused napkins to wipe her eyes. It was only then that she realized there were tears falling down her cheeks. How long had she been crying? _Why_ had she been crying? …Would she ever stop?

"I know I'm not the best at relationships," he started. "But the one thing I've learned is that it's easier to _fall_ in love than it is to _be_ in love."

Truer words had never been spoken.

* * *

There were chills traveling through each and every corridor within the gargantuan structure that was Azkaban Prison. Established centuries ago and the place of death for the guilty and the innocent, alike, this prison was unlike any other. It was the only prison in the wizarding world to have housed people as notorious as the famously framed Sirius Black and his deranged cousin Bellatrix Lestrange. It was the only prison in the wizarding world guarded by Dementors — creatures that encapsulated all that was dark and evil and sinister.

Louise hugged her shoulders, following the instructions to Richard Forbes' cell. It wasn't ideal, being there alone and for the first time. She would preferred to have visited with at least an army of protection, but there was no such barrier between her and the terrifying, hooded guards.

Before then, she had never once laid eyes on a Dementor, having suffered nightmares about them for most of her childhood. Severus did not know this fact, otherwise he would surely have not asked her to do this for him. But she wasn't about to spoil everything and tell him.

It was an honour that he trusted her enough with something so important.

In some strange, inexplicable way, she was happy to be there, because that made her feelings for Severus real. She didn't traverse through Azkaban Prison for just anyone, after all.

Louise thought distantly of him, of the state she had left him in. Every now and then, she would wonder if he survived. It wasn't something she liked to think about, given her current location and the importance of keeping a positive train of thought, but she couldn't help herself.

The young woman continued onward, and made her way to the topmost floor in the eastern wing of the prison. There was a cell in front of her. It was barred and very, very dark inside. She glanced to the left, where a Dementor stood, watching over the prisoner located inside, and felt an overwhelming bout of emptiness swarm through her bloodstream, before the Dementor waved its slender, taloned hand and unlocked the cell door, bidding her entrance.

Her instructions from the docking bay had been clear.

She had only ten minutes to gather information on the Forbes' before the Dementor would see her out. Any longer than that, and her boat back to shore would leave without her.

Louise swallowed hard and took a deep, calculated breath, before moving into the cell.

It was blindingly dark. She could see nothing, not even the shoes on her feet. The notion that people spent the remaining days of their lives in such sad, sorry states made her heart swell — but she reminded herself that most, if not all of them deserved it.

The man in front of her was no exception.

She couldn't see him at first. But within twenty or thirty seconds of entering the cell, her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, and Louise spotted the shackled, haggard man in the corner. He looked everything and nothing like she had expected. His hair was long and tangled. His muscles had withered to nothing, assuming he had any to start, and his skin was covered in dirt. The prisoner uniform of dull grey did nothing to help.

His beady eyes traveled to hers, and they widened for a moment, as though he had not expected her — but she knew this not to be the case. The only reason she had been permitted inside Azkaban was because he had accepted her offer for an interview. She figured he craved the company, rather than the attention.

But the twinge of sympathy that erupted in her gut at the mere sight of him dwindled into nothingness, as she heard the voice that came from between his chapped lips.

"Who hired you?" Richard Forbes asked, speaking with an air of authority that Louise had definitely not expected.

She stepped back, feeling her spine make contact with one of the bars. "Erm — I —"

"Rita Skeeter?" he ventured, sounding tired rather than beaten down. "That bitch has been itching for an interview for decades."

Louise arched an eyebrow. First, she had no idea about this Rita Skeeter. Second, she did not appreciate his use of the word _bitch_. "I'm from an American publication," she forced out, deciding to fake confidence until it came naturally. "I won't say which, but I will tell you, your family history is a thing of reverence to my readers."

"_Pureblood Weekly_," guessed the prisoner, as though he did not need confirmation.

She decided to play along. There was no harm in it. "Let's — Let's — erm — Let's start from the beginning," the witch suggested, withdrawing the proper writing tools. "Tell me about your grandparents."

His grandparents — Benedict and Geraldine Forbes — were the last known heads of the Forbes clan to have known the fortune and grandeur of their ancestors. Their lineage could be traced back countless centuries, with connections to Rowena Ravenclaw and even Merlin himself. The Forbes were an ancient and revered clan, much to the dismay of the envious Malfoy's and the vindictive Gaunt's.

But with such fame and power came consequences. The Forbes' had enemies. The Forbes' learned — in the hardest way possible — that wealth did not always equal supremacy.

The public reacted with much shock and little sympathy, when news of Geraldine's murder had hit the stands. She was bludgeoned in her country home by an unknown assailant and found by her fourteen-year-old son — by Montgomery Forbes.

Benedict moved his family from the countryside to central London, knowing it would be easier to keep his children safe with their cousins in the city rather than remain in the country, where they had received no closure over Geraldine's death and where he figured the killer was still at large, waiting for another chance to strike.

His measures had proven effective, seeing as the killer did not strike. But that did not mean the family was safe.

In the wake of Geraldine's murder, Montgomery began to notice a change in his father. Benedict was no longer the same man pouring over paperwork and puffing his costly cigars. He was a shadow of his former self. He turned to alcohol for escape. He ignored his children. He let the fortune go to waste, and with it, his health.

That, however, was not the bottom of the Forbes' downfall.

Not even close.

The true downfall — the one everyone whispered about and kept alive for so many years — had to do with Montgomery himself.

There was a small fraction of the fortune that remained, when new evidence of Geraldine's murder had been found in the country estate. It was found decades after that fact, by one of Montgomery's children. His name was Richard Forbes, and he did not know the significance of the broken spade buried in the backyard, when he found it in the summer of 1951.

Young Richard found that spade and handed it to his nanny, who then handed it to authorities. Young Richard — unknowingly and unwittingly — uncovered the mystery behind Geraldine's murder and that his own father, Geraldine's eldest son, had been the one to commit the crime. Montgomery had done it. Montgomery had murdered his mother and gotten away with it for over half his life.

Nobody knew why and nobody could get Montgomery to confess, despite the evidence.

It didn't take long after that, for the remainder of the Forbes fortune to disappear. All the fines. All the legal fees. Everything.

The money was gone.

The power was gone.

The only things that remained were the whispers, the reminders, the unrelenting truth — and how this truth tore the family apart.

Richard regaled this story to Louise, catching the girl off guard during several parts of the dark, twisted family tale.

She had stopped taking proper notes around halfway through, resolving to doodle with hopes that it simply _looked _convincing enough. There was no way she could focus long enough to write down what Richard was saying. The story was so long, so engrossing. It felt as though he was reading her a novel, as opposed to telling her his family history.

She almost _wanted_ to write an article about it.

But the important matters had yet to be discussed.

"Thank you for sharing that," Louise concluded, drawing several more doodles on her parchment. "I — I know it must be difficult to talk about, even after all this time."

Richard remained unfazed throughout the tale, despite his direct involvement. "I'm glad to help."

She tried not to look at him for too long, fearing he would see through her act. "Well, now that we've moved through the difficult parts…why don't we talk about the other members of your family?"

"Certainly," the man obliged, having crossed his legs from his spot on the stone floor. "I had two younger brothers — Alan and Gregory — both of whom married and had children, and subsequently died. Gregory and his wife Danielle had died during the First Wizarding War, whilst Alan and his wife Katie had died five years ago, under Voldemort's orders."

"That's unfortunate," Louise commented, meaning every ounce of it. "What about their children?"

Richard's eyes narrowed, as if he'd been expecting this question. "You're asking about William."

William Forbes had, of course, made headlines after Voldemort was defeated by Severus and the others. To Louise's understanding, William had joined Voldemort's forces undercover, same as Severus and Hermione, but had been killed along the way. The public, however, was unaware of that, and simply knew him to be the first Death Eater in Forbes' history.

"Were you close?" she asked, Quill at the ready, seeing as she needed to keep record of this next part to their conversation.

"He was the son I never had," Richard answered. "A volatile, passionate, good-for-nothing numbskull — but a son, nonetheless." There was actually an ounce of grief when he spoke of William. "I did, however, have a daughter — or rather, an inherited daughter."

Louise tried to hide the eagerness in her expression. "Your niece," she added. "Gregory's daughter."

Richard nodded. "I was my niece's guardian after Gregory and Danielle passed on."

"Tell me about her," the witch furthered.

Her interviewee thought distantly of his niece. For these moments, it appeared as though he may actually have been human. Such a strange thing. Richard glanced up, eyeing Louise with a peculiar look on his face — fondness, perhaps. "She's a lot like you, now that I think about it."

"Me?" Louise asked, startled. "How so?"

"She's also a writer," he explained. "She speaks with an American accent like you, as well."

"Does she?"

Richard smiled to himself a moment, as though he stumbled upon a happy memory. "I'm sure Greg and Dani would have never let her do it, but I, being the easily swayed de facto father that I was, allowed for my niece to go to school abroad — in an American establishment."

Louise made a sound of surprise, suddenly realizing why Severus had been adamant in choosing _her _to interview Richard. "Is that right?"

"Yes, quite right. She was a lovely girl," he carried on. "Very smart. Very dedicated. Passionate like William, but with tact."

"She sounds admirable," Louise offered. "But…I can't help noticing your use of past-tense. Did something happen to her?"

His expression hardened just then — for only a moment. "I haven't heard from her for seven years," Richard uttered, as something of a confession. "Not since — Not since she left the Inn."

"The Inn?"

"The Wyvern Wing Inn," he explained, as though it were second nature. "I owned an operated it in the small-town of Sterling Harbour. It was my niece's favourite place in all of England. She — She visited one summer with the intention of helping me run the Inn but — but things didn't go as planned and — and she left me only a note."

Louise could feel something heavy coming. "What did the note say?"

"_Dear Uncle,_" Richard recited from memory, unaware of the true significance behind his words. "_I've missed being here. I've missed spending time with you and with Will, and Aunt Katie and Uncle Alan. But there comes a time when home is no longer home, and as painful as it is for me to say, Sterling Harbour is no longer my home. I've made a grave mistake, something I can never take back, and as much as I want to stay here and face my problems — the way you taught me — I can't. I can't bear to face these people and their judgment. I have to leave. But don't worry, because Will has been kind enough to help me with this…mistake. He'll look after me and I'll look after him. I wish I could tell you the truth in greater detail, and one day I will, but for now all I can do is tell you that this is for the best and that I appreciate everything you've ever done for me. Please understand. Love, Leanne._"

**A/N: Oh snap. That name sounds familiar, doesn't it? haha. No Draco in this chapter, but the next one is largely from his perspective. Stay tuned for that! **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	9. Damsels and Dark Marks

**A/N: Just a few more chapters to go! I'm excited/nervous to share the ending with you. I'll admit, I kind of put this story on the back burner a couple months ago, but I've been listening to this amazing song that literally _screams _Draco/Hermione (at least, the way they are in this story) and it completely restored my motivation. I'll share the song at the end of this chapter. Enjoy! **

Draco flipped through the pages mindlessly and endlessly. After seeing Hermione and Severus safely home from the ambush, he'd detoured to the wizarding archives in search of information on the little ghost girl Olivia and her family. The young man didn't what to expect going in, but he definitely did not foresee this strange turn of events. As it turned out, Olivia was a Forbes.

Just like Richard.

Just like William.

…Just like Leanne.

It had been years since Draco had thought of her — of Leanne. So much had happened since those days. So much had changed. Their whirlwind relationship had been short-lived, and yet, her departure had been rough on him. He remembered vowing to find her after the war was over, but that obviously had not panned out. If Leanne wanted to be found, she would have left him with something — a clue or a note or anything remotely helpful.

But she had no done that.

One day, they'd been all over each other and the next day, she was gone.

Draco had blamed William for a long time, knowing William had played an integral role in Leanne moving back to America. Perhaps William didn't approve of the relationship, being the protective brotherly figure that he was. Perhaps Draco had unknowingly mistreated her in some way, shape or form. Or perhaps the rumours were true, and William harboured unnatural feelings for his cousin.

She was a beautiful girl. She was a smart girl. But Draco couldn't fathom a single reason why Leanne swear off her family and run away like that, even to please her overbearing cousin. Something had to have happened.

The wizard gathered several documents under his cloak and proceeded out of the archives, passing through the grand double doors and into wizarding Britain with every intention of finding the truth. His research had led him to one resounding fact. Olivia's home was the place Geraldine Forbes had been murdered all those years ago — and the place Cissy had been held after her kidnapping — which meant one thing.

The Forbes had his daughter.

Not only that, _Leanne _had his daughter.

She had to have been the girl in the ambush. She had to have been the one in Nott's vault, the one that shed that long, dark strand of hair. Severus had told him about the hair and the way the girl looked. Everything fit. The pieces fell perfectly into place. But amidst that discovery was the underlying question.

What could Leanne want with his daughter?

There had been no claims for ransom. There had been no communication between them and the kidnappers, since the initial letter sent to Hermione's flat.

Draco ran both hands through his hair, having Apparated to the flat. It was nighttime, and most of the occupants were either sleeping or tucked away in their separate rooms. Ron and Gemma had taken the master bedroom, Severus and his girlfriend in the guest bedroom, and Hermione in their daughter's room, leaving Draco the sofa.

He collapsed onto the beaten leather and felt the day's chaos wear down on him. It had been nonstop since the previous night. First with the letter. Then with going to Olivia's home. Followed closely by the incident in Gringotts. His trip to the archives was ill-advised, given the exhaustion that had been weighing down on him since Cissy's disappearance, but he couldn't sit still and do nothing. He had to keep going. He had to keep searching. He had to find her.

"You're back," Hermione voiced, moving into the lounge with her day clothes still on. She clearly had not slept. "I was worried."

Draco tilted his head in her direction, making room for her as she sat on the other end of his sofa. It was eerily quiet. The others were asleep. There were no sounds coming from outside — no voices, nothing — just the ambiance of midnight.

"How is Severus?" he asked.

The expression on Hermione's face showed there had been no complications as far as their former Potions Master's recovery went. "He's making good progress. I'm sure he'll be up and running in a couple days."

"That's good," Draco commented, thinking back to the state they found him in and the possibility of who had done it. "I found some interesting information in the archives."

"Did you?"

He nodded. "I — I'm not sure if you remember but William had a cousin in Sterling Harbour named Leanne."

Hermione blinked. "Your girlfriend."

"Barely."

"Continue," she prompted.

Draco swallowed, knowing his next words were important. "It turns out Olivia is a Forbes girl, which means —"

"The Forbes' _are _involved," Hermione interjected, speaking with relief rather than repulsion. There was finally a lead in this game of cat and mouse. "And you think Leanne has something to do with it."

"Yes," he confirmed, speaking gravely. "But I have no idea why, only that the facts are pointing in her direction. It — It just doesn't make sense."

Hermione gave him a knowing look. "Her cousin died because of me. It makes perfect sense for her to be involved in our daughter's disappearance."

"Leanne swore off her family all those years ago," Draco continued. "If she cared about William or about Richard, she would have come back."

"Didn't you tell me William took her from you?" Hermione furthered, recalling one of their previous conversations. "She obviously cared enough to leave with him."

Draco considered this. The cousins had been very close, as far as he could remember, but Leanne was even closer with her Uncle Richard. She would not have let her uncle for just any reason under the sun. There had to be something bigger at play, something he didn't know about.

"Listen," Hermione carried on. "I know this must be difficult, having to wrap your head around the fact that the girl you loved could quite possibly be involved in our daughter's disappearance but —" She exhaled. "I know what you're going through. You're not alone."

Her words resonated with him. She was, of course, speaking about Nott. They were in the same boat. People they had once trusted, betrayed them in the most unforgivable way. But there was one thing wrong about what Hermione had said.

"I didn't love Leanne," Draco uttered, turning to his former flame. The brunette was dressed in simple clothes — jeans and a white, long-sleeved shirt — but it was simplicity that made her beautiful. "Apart from our daughter and my parents, I've only ever loved one person." Her facial features softened. The world around them grew smaller and smaller. "I still do."

* * *

Hermione breathed in. His words repeated in the depths of her mind. She couldn't resolve to ignore it anymore — the tension between them. It started in Olivia's bedroom, when he kissed her, and it had now come full circle. There was something to be said about all the moments she thought of him instead of Nott, even before she found out Nott was crooked, even before Cissy had been kidnapped. Her bond with Draco — her love for him — had not suffered in the wake of their divorce.

The only thing that suffered was Narcissa Malfoy II. Her parents were practically kids when they had her. Neither of them had ever been in love before. Neither of them knew how to build the foundation of a happy, healthy relationship — alongside a happy, healthy environment for their daughter. It was one or the other, and they chose the latter.

But they weren't kids anymore.

All that remained of their painful separation were memories, memories that tore into Hermione's thinly veiled defiance and memories that haunted her in the late hours of the night. She remembered everything. She remembers their petty feuds. She remembered waking up one morning, relieved that Draco had already gone to work. She remembered craving the days without him. She remembered the moment it hit her — the moment she realized their relationship was suffering. She remembered the argument that ended it all.

But none of those memories burned brighter than the moment she first realized she loved him.

It was during their stopover in Sterling Harbour, after William had turned on her. In that moment, she did not think about her parents or her fallen allies. She thought about him. She thought about Draco. She _craved _him. She needed him.

More than that, he was there for her.

Through everything, he was there for her.

The feeling tugged and twisted her heartstrings. She turned to him, on the sofa, in the middle of her flat, and found those smoky orbs gazing back at her. The distance between them remained but there was a level of understanding and intimacy that drew their souls together, even when their bodies were apart.

Hermione pressed her eyes shut, hating the way she _still _craved him, the way she _still _needed him.

"I'll never forgive myself for letting you go," he confessed, speaking softly. "I hope you know that."

"It's not your fault. We — We were both so young and so idealistic. We had no idea what we were doing." She spoke with honesty, with genuine, heartfelt emotion. "If anything, we're both to blame."

Draco faced her. "That's not the point," he disagreed. "I shouldn't have left the way I did. I should have fought for you."

"You did fight for me," Hermione countered, recalling all those moments, moving closer to him. "The proof is right here," she whispered, using her hand to feel for the jagged scar along his back, from Fenrir Greyback's attack.

The scar was hidden beneath his black dress shirt, but she had been with him enough times to know his body. It was easy to find, easy to feel, easy to imagine the manner in which Draco had saved her that first time. She hated being a damsel in distress, as she had mentioned to him during the beginning stages of their bond with one another, but part of her loved being _his _damsel — part of her loved being _his _Sleeping Beauty.

The wizard laced their fingers together, as her hand drifted from his back. They had not touched like this, without confusion or without guilt, in quite some time. It came with ease. It came with experience. It came with understanding, and in an unexpected maneuver, he bent down and pressed his lips on both her wrists.

Her pulse quickened. She knew he could feel it. Beyond that, she wanted him to feel it. She wanted him to know.

"You're a fighter, too," Draco spoke, releasing one hand to feel along her left forearm, where she had a marking identical to his.

It had faded since Voldemort's defeat, but it was still there. It would always be there. She breathed in, unsteadily, having covered her Dark Mark for the better part of the past five years. It brought her pain. It brought her misery. But it was also a reminder for everything they had done, everything they had sacrificed to end Tom Riddle's fragmented life.

Draco traced the skull with the bud of his thumb, watching as the snake hissed and slithered away from him, overtop of the veins in her forearm, the same veins that pumped faster and harder the longer he touched her.

* * *

Gemma tip-toed into the master bedroom, careful not to make a sound on her way back from the loo. She heard voices coming from the lounge, belonging to Draco and to Hermione. It was no secret that Hermione's former boyfriend, Theodore Nott, had kidnapped Cissy and by doing so, ended their relationship. This meant, despite everything, Hermione was single.

It was insensitive, but Gemma couldn't help the giddiness that erupted in her gut every time she imagined her favourite couple — other than herself and Ron — getting back together. She had been cheering for them since the early days. There was something remarkable about their bond, about their connection.

"Were you eavesdropping?" Ron asked, sitting wide awake with his back against the headboard.

Her face blanched. "N — No," she denied. "Why would I eavesdrop?"

The red-haired wizard gave her an obvious look. "Any progress?"

"_So _much," Gemma blurted, clapping a hand over her mouth as soon as the words left her lips. She giggled then, noticing the amusement in Ron's face. "I think they're well on their way."

"I hope so," her husband remarked, lifting the covers for her as she climbed back in bed. "All the sexual tension makes me hungry."

"Is there anything that doesn't make you hungry?" Gemma scoffed.

Ron paused in thought. "Spiders," he decided. "Definitely, spiders."

* * *

**The song is a mashup called "Forbidden Love" featuring the artists ****CHVRCHES, , Bastille, Avicii, Kendrick Lamar, Drake, and Marina. I'm not sure who made the mix, but I found the song on the YouTube channel "bvnny" so I'm sure you can find it if you do a quick search on YT. If not, feel free to message me and I'll send you a link. **

**It's kind of a cluster fuck of a bunch of different things (as most mashups are) but there is one resounding emotion, and it's love that you can't avoid no matter how hard you try. To me, that's exactly what Hermione and Draco are going through, and have been going through since the beginning. **

**Give it a listen! It's a great mashup. Trust me. **

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Don't forget to tell me what you think/what you hope will happen. **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	10. Sexy Severus and Subtext

**A/N: WARNING! This chapter is incredibly corny. Like, more than usual. **

Louise entered the guest bedroom, having just returned from her visit to Azkaban Prison. Her instructions had been to meet with Severus and the rest of the team in Hermione's flat. It was already quite late into the night. She had knocked on the door about four times, before a rather handsome blondie answered. His name was Draco — _the _Draco — and he looked positively spent.

"He's in the guest room," Draco told her, gesturing to the corridor. "Second door to the right."

She resolved to give him a polite nod, before proceeding into the corridor and past the door leading into Severus' room. It was the only open door, and inside rested the man of the hour. To her surprise, he was not asleep. His eyes were open. There were dark circles beneath them and even darker marks along his arms and neck. His bruises had apparently settled in — a deep purplish colour at that point.

The young woman closed the door behind her and leaned back, into it. She could feel moisture collect around her eyes.

It was only then that he noticed her, having glued his eyes to the window. There was light rain pouring from the sky, pitter-pattering on the rooftop and glossing the streets.

Louise breathed in, overwhelmed by the sight of him. There had been so many thoughts running through her mind, so many scenarios that left Severus' life hanging by a thread. But he was not dead. He was in front of her — alive as ever. She buried her face in her hands, having never experienced such strong waves of relief in her life.

Her body slid down the door.

There was movement coming from the bed. Severus came to her side and knelt down, pulling the hands from her face. His eyes were wild with concern. "What's wrong? Are you hurt? Did something happen in Azkaban?"

"I'm fine," Louise blurted. "You — You're not. You shouldn't be out of bed." She motioned for him to get back on the mattress. "You need to recover. You need to — to —"

Severus wiped the tears from her eyes. "Don't cry," he whispered. "Please."

"I thought you were dead," she confessed, revealing to him the notions that had tormented her from the moment she left _The Leaky Cauldron_. "I thought you were — you were —"

"I'm right here," Severus told her, kissing both of her hands and then her lips. "I'm a little bruised up, but I'm right here, good as ever."

Louise shakily brushed her fingers along the sides of his face, as though he were an illusion. "Thank Merlin," she whispered. "Don't scare me like that again. I love you too damned much."

"I love _you_," he declared, running his hands through her hair. "I love everything about you."

Severus had meant to tell her before, back in _The Leaky Cauldron_, but she stopped him before the first syllable left his lips. She wanted to hear it, but not then, not when she didn't know if she would hear it again. It may have been considered selfish on her part, but making those declarations then, when his lifeline was in dire state, would have sounded too much like a goodbye and she was not ready to say goodbye.

Their lips brushed together, never coming in full contact, only feathering and familiarizing.

Louise's breathing turned shallow. "What — What are you doing?" she asked, flustered as Severus worked to unbutton her blouse. "I was joking when I said I wanted you in bed as soon as I'm back. You're _hurt_."

"I'm fine enough to do this," he reasoned, sweeping her lips into a full kiss and simultaneously pushing the blouse from her shoulders. "To give you thanks for being so brave."

Her cheeks burned with hotness. "…I…I…"

Severus reached behind her back and unfastened her bra with one hand, causing titillating chills to crawl the length of her spine. The points on her breasts perked, and without further ado, he went for it.

* * *

Draco waited for the guest bedroom door to close before slumping back onto the sofa. There were countless things running through his mind, preventing him from getting the proper amount of rest he needed in order to find his daughter. But how could he possibly rest, when she was out there somewhere…alone…scared…in danger? It tore him to pieces, thinking about all those painful details.

His conversation with Hermione only solidified the fear in his chest. She had gone to change her clothes. Nothing had happened between them, but even so much as speaking with his former wife made him miss his daughter more than words could describe. They were so alike. Both so passionate, so brilliant, so strong.

The weight on his shoulders increased with each passing second.

He sat up, realizing there was no possible way he could ever sleep — not without some assistance.

The wizard rose from the sofa and made his way to the kitchen, locating an open bottle of Firewhiskey.

Strange.

Hermione didn't drink Firewhiskey. It must have belonged to Nott.

There was a twitch in his biceps. Draco hadn't been given the chance to face Nott. But he _would _make time for that. He _would _find the man responsible for his daughter's kidnapping, and he _would _tear him apart limb from limb.

He emptied the Firewhiskey into the sink, as though it were Nott's blood, and opted for some wine instead. It was an older bottle — about five years — and from Italy. He knew this bottle. It was the bottle he and Hermione had drank from, during their wedding feast.

"Sorry I took so long," someone voiced from behind.

Draco turned and found Hermione there, changed out of her day clothes and into some cotton pyjamas. They were olive green and quite conservative, but something about them made his temperature rise. He recognized these pyjamas, vividly remembering the moment he'd popped every last one of those buttons and devoured her body on the kitchen counter, and then in the shower.

Those memories were everywhere in the flat.

Their marriage had been short-lived, but it had also been filled with sex and sex and more sex. It seemed every time they argued, they would resolve to undress and have a go at one another in _that way_.

Needless to say, he didn't mind.

"What?" Hermione asked, noticing the change in his expression. She stared down at her pyjamas, confused. "Is something wrong?"

Draco shook his head, falling back to reality. "No — Nothing," he mumbled. "I found this." He held up the wine, hoping to deter the topic of their conversation elsewhere.

There was a touch of colour on her cheeks. "Our wedding wine."

"You remember," he remarked.

She gave him an obvious look, taking hold of the wine and pouring it in two glasses, before handing him one. "Of course, I do."

It tasted exactly how he remembered. Each note. Each flavour. Each subtle detail. The wine wasn't very old, but it was damned good. Draco savoured his glass, not wanting to diminish the bottle so soon. It was the last shred of their marriage that survived the divorce — apart from Cissy.

The pair moved to the bench on the balcony. There was rain falling from overhead, but it was peaceful.

Neither of them felt comfortable spending an entire night doing nothing, but they had no choice. Their Port Key wasn't scheduled for use until morning. Draco had arranged for it moments before Louise arrived, having discussed with Hermione the possible places Leanne and Nott could have taken their daughter. It turned out the Forbes had a place in Scotland, as they discovered after reading a few of the documents he 'borrowed' from the archives.

It felt as though months had passed, but it had only been four days since the kidnapping.

Still, the knot in Draco's chest tightened. He couldn't shake the guilt. He could shake the worry.

"Who all should go to Edinburgh?" Hermione asked.

Her words snapped him out of his worries, as they usually did. He rubbed the back of his head, in thought. "I'm thinking us and Ron."

She nodded along. "I was thinking the same. Severus is still hurt and needs Gemma to take care of him."

"What about Louise?"

"Is she back from Azkaban?"

Draco confirmed this by gesturing to the entrance of the flat. "She arrived while you were changing."

"Oh — shame I didn't get to see her," Hermione frowned, genuinely disappointed. "I've been wondering about this girlfriend of Severus'."

"I didn't speak to her long," he shrugged. "It seemed like she was in a hurry to see him."

"I'd imagine so," the brunette agreed, taking a sip from her glass. "I don't know what I would do if — if —" There was a hitch in her breathing.

Draco faced his former flame. "If?"

"If the man I love were suffering like him," Hermione finished, having another go at her wine. "Then again, I do have an idea."

Her gaze drifted into the distance. Something changed in her demeanour. She went from pained to pensive. There were memories floating in that brilliant mind of hers.

There were memories floating through his, of all the times she had suffered.

"I know this is going to sound random but —" He breathed out, trying to find the right words. "I don't think I've ever properly apologized for hurting you, back when I didn't have my memories."

Hermione flashed him a perplexed look. "That _is _random," she remarked. "But you don't have to apologize. There was dark magic at play. You were drugged. You weren't in the right frame of mind."

"But it was my choice to erase my memories," Draco countered, having mulled this over for ages. "I wouldn't have been drugged so easily, had I been myself. It was my fault…and to think…I did it because I was jealous."

"Jealous?" Hermione repeated.

He nodded. "I found out Ron was alive and — and couldn't bear to see you with him, so I erased my memories." It was a ridiculous decision, to say the least. But his former self thought it was his only option. "I think 'jealous' is probably an understatement. It was more of a crippling, covetous rage." He exhaled and looked at her, embarrassed. "Basically, I was an idiot. I'm sorry."

Strangely enough, there was a look of amusement on her face. "You were only eighteen. There's nothing wrong with what you did. I just — I can't believe you thought I was still interested in Ron, after everything that happened between _us_."

Draco considered her reasoning, realizing she was alluding to what happened moments before he'd been summoned. The meadow. Their first kiss. The first time he'd touched her with desire, rather than duty. The first time she touched back. It was vivid in his mind, as were many memories of theirs.

"I was attracted to you from the beginning," Hermione furthered, sneaking looks at him. "Even at the Institute."

He listened carefully, having never heard these words come from her mouth. After defeating Tom Riddle, they had resolved to push those painful memories behind them. But not all the memories were painful — some were heated, some were sweet, some were spell-binding.

She bit her bottom lip, in thought. "I remember bandaging your torso, wondering what it would feel like if I ran my hands down your back…and…over your abs."

There were times when Draco had caught her lingering looks, back at the Institute. But he tried to ignore them, thinking his mind was playing tricks on him. It was nice to know he hadn't imagined everything.

"Then in the woods, after we had that stupid mud fight," Hermione reminisced. "I rested my head on your shoulder and went right to sleep. I — I realized then that I could actually trust you."

"I remember that," he spoke. "Nothing like some mud to bring two hypochondriacs together."

She rolled her eyes, smiling. "I'm trying to be sentimental, you twat."

Her smile made his chest contract. "Do continue, Sleeping Beauty."

The colour on her cheeks deepened. She glanced at her feet, shifting them. He hadn't directly called her _Sleeping Beauty _since before their divorce.

"Do you remember the argument we had in Sterling Harbour?" she asked. "The one in our room at the Inn."

"I do." It was the first time he felt genuinely hurt by her, and the first time he felt genuinely remorseful for hurting her.

"I think about it sometimes," Hermione confessed. "I think about the things you said to me that night and — and what I could have done differently." She breathed in and then out, slowly. "It's going to sound ridiculous, but I think the reason I left to be with William was because — because I was afraid of what I was starting to feel...for you."

Draco had a drink from his glass. "I was afraid, too."

"I was such an idiot back then," she groaned. "But as foolish as it sounds…the sight of you busting through the doors in that warehouse made almost getting assaulted kind of worth it."

He arched an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Hermione's shoulders shook as she laughed to herself, soundlessly. "It was definitely one of your finer moments."

The wizard cracked a smile, drinking the rest of his wine to keep himself from doing a victory dance right in the middle of the balcony. It had been a long time since they just talked like this — fondly. It had been an even longer time since they discussed their attraction towards one another. Then again, he wasn't sure they ever discussed it — just acted on it.

"And you in that dress," Draco added. "After your initiation."

Her cheeks were now bright red. It was understandable, given the memory floating through both their minds.

"But my most favourite memory was after Greyback's attack," he explained, looking down and placing his hand on hers, waiting for her to pull away and then lacing their fingers together when she didn't. "I remember racing towards you and taking your hand in mine, and then, for the first time, your hand squeezed back." She did, just then, even before the words finished leaving his lips. "It was like air through my lungs."

There was a single tear sliding down her cheek. She didn't bother wiping it. "Do you ever think about Tuscany?"

"All the time," he answered.

It wasn't just those three months looking after her, that he'd spent in Tuscany. It was also her pregnancy and some time afterwards. He loved that villa. He loved the air. He loved the greenery. But there was something incomplete about it, when he was there on his own.

"I wonder what it would have been like, if all those things happened later in life, when we were old enough to handle them," she thought aloud.

Draco shared these sentiments. "I still think we did a decent job."

"We did," she agreed. "I just — I wish some things turned out different."

He wished, too.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, echoing the moment in the woods. Another sleepless night. Another conversation spoken entirely through subtext from start to finish.

"I suppose there's a second chance for everything," Hermione spoke, quiet in every way apart from her underlying message.

This message sent a flurry of emotion through his bloodstream.

He breathed out, no longer crippled with uncertainty, and used his free hand to brush the hair from her face. She was beautiful. Her eyes. Her freckles. Her lips. There was a gentle part between those lips. They were a soft shade of pink and even softer against his, if memory served right. Just earlier in the day, he'd kissed her. It was an impulsive decision on his part and although she had not scolded him for doing so, there was still an air of remorse that ran through his veins.

"Do you know my favourite memory?" she asked.

Draco had an idea as to what it could be, but he wanted to hear it. "Tell me."

She didn't say anything. Instead, she took his hand and placed it on her lower abdomen. There was nothing left to do. The meaning was clear. But the brunette narrated her actions anyway. "It was when you put your hand right _here…_and spoke to our daughter for the first time."

It was inconsolable, the grief they felt for being without their precious girl. But the manner in which Cissy's disappearance erased all the negative tension between them and reawakened their need for one another, was difficult to miss. Perhaps all they needed was a push in the right direction. Perhaps all of this was supposed to bring them together — stronger than ever — in order to find their daughter and destroy her kidnappers once and for all.

Perhaps it was meant to happen.

Draco moved his hand from her lower abdomen to her waist and slipped the tips of his fingers past her waistband, drawing her even closer.

So close.

So unbelievably close.

**A/N: Well, I wonder what happens next haha. Thanks for reading this chapter. I know it's on the cornier side but I had to do it. It's kind of a shout-out to people who know the first story well. Anyway, stay tuned for the next one! **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	11. Wild Lavender and Lochs

**A/N: To anyone confused: "Loch"****is an Irish and Scottish Gaelic word that is used to describe sea inlets and/or lakes. I believe it is most commonly used in Scotland (think Loch Ness Monster), but I could be wrong. Anyway, enjoy the chapter! **

Ron awoke with a start, feeling Gemma stir beside him. Their bodies were tangled in a mixture of bed sheets and limbs. It was a challenge and a half, rising from bed without waking her, but he managed to do so, having five solid years of practice under his belt.

The young man made his way to the door, carefully turning it open before proceeding into the corridor. There was something tugging at his chest muscles. It wasn't panic or dread. It was more physical than that. He entered the loo and stood directly in front of the sink, turning the tap on to splash his face with cold water.

His temperature had risen. There were aches all over his body. The feeling in his chest worsened.

There was only one cause for this, something Ron had managed to overlook since Cissy Malfoy's kidnapping.

His attention drifted to the mirror above the sink, and with one look he was able to distinguish the source of his problems. His werewolf cycle had begun. It had always sounded _cool _and somewhat intriguing to him, as a child, to be a werewolf. But it was nothing of the sort. He'd learned this from Remus Lupin, and again through his own recent experiences.

Wolfsbane, as foul as it was to ingest, helped him immensely during full moons, providing him with enough control to keep his human mind during transformation. Those nights were not an issue, not in the way they used to be. It was the nights before and after transformation that plagued him most. He couldn't control his temper. He couldn't control his mood, his aggression.

Gemma, being the excellent person she was, understood his condition and did what she could to help, but her hovering did nothing in the face of something as irreversible as lycanthropy.

It was during times like these, when he turned to the Gods he didn't believe in and prayed for the impossible.

Six years had come and gone since his best friend was murdered, but the wounds were still fresh and the screams were still ear-splitting. He remembered that battle. He remembered it second-to-second.

He needed Harry.

* * *

Hermione could hear footsteps coming from the corridor, having retreated to Cissy's room for some last minute rest about twenty minutes ago, leaving the balcony and all its possibilities. She closed her eyes and imagined everything, as though living through it for the first time.

_The brunette inhaled, filling her lungs with oxygen. His hands went through her hair, down her back and along her waist. She could not breathe without breathing in his scent. It was musky and delicious. It made the fever in her chest rise to unfound heights. She had to have been shaking. Every word. Every moment, had been a precursor to this one. Her eyes fluttered shut. Her heart raced like a Firebolt. Her lips parted, quaking against his as he kissed her._

_It was different from their earlier kiss. It was not clouded with danger or urgency. It was slow, sensual and divine. She kissed him back, feeling his deep-seeded longing transfer through their kiss in the shape of a moan. It was no secret, that he wanted her all this time. She could see it in his eyes. She could feel it in his touch. She could practically taste it in the air, whenever he happened to be in the same room. _

_She responded to his sounds with some of her own, draping her hands along his neck and strong, solid shoulders. From this kiss, it was hard to tell they had ever spent time apart. Their lips were perfectly in tune with one another. Their hands. Their bodies. Their souls. _

_The night was theirs, and as he trailed his kiss from her lips to the inner curve of her neck, it was clear that he had every intention to satiate the fire burning in her core. _

_Her body quivered._

The memories sent her thoughts into a frenzy. Nothing had happened beyond that kiss, but even the smallest kiss with Draco eclipsed all else. She rolled to her side, forcing her eyes shut and praying the feeling of his lips on hers — and all along her neck — would vanish long enough for her to rest. There was a lot at stake. She needed to be in the best possible shape for the morning. Sharing some wine hadn't helped. It usually calmed her to have a glass, but drinking the bottle from their wedding only made the thoughts running through her mind run faster.

She breathed out, overcome with longing.

It was no mystery that the pair of them proved to be an incompatible couple. She couldn't fool herself into thinking one kiss meant they should give their relationship another go. The weight of the divorce still rested evenly on both shoulders. She wasn't sure if she could handle another.

But there was one thing about Draco that set him apart from other men.

Every year on the anniversary of the day she had risen from her magically induced slumber, there was a single lavender flower delivered to her doorstep. She recognized these flowers, seeing as they grew wild in the land surrounding one particular villa.

Draco may have been a headache waiting to happen, but he was also a romantic, and she could not fault him for that.

* * *

The day burned brightly through Gemma's eyes. She could hear the group discussing their plans, which involved taking a Port Key to a wizarding settlement in Edinburgh and then attacking the Forbes castle. In her opinion, they were walking into a death trap but her opinion didn't carry much weight. She was, after all, just a Muggle.

The young woman turned to Ron, noticing something different about him. "How are you feeling?"

Her husband forced a smile and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. "Just a little tired," he lied. "Did you sleep well?"

Gemma frowned, folding her arms across her chest. "It's almost full moon," she told him. "I know you're hurting."

"I'm fine," he assured her, looking anything but. "If anything, it'll give me the edge I need on the battlefield."

"I don't think you should go," she said, frankly.

Ron breathed in, softening the strain in his facial muscles. "I have to go," he spoke, combing her hair back. "Beyond that, I want to go. Our Goddaughter is on the line."

"I know, and I do want her back but —"

"Trust me," he interjected, holding her hands in his. "I'll have Draco and Hermione with me. I'm sure you trust them as much as I do. There's no reason to worry."

"If anything happens to you —"

The red-haired wizard smiled, kissing her directly on the lips. "I'm coming back to you," he whispered, so the others couldn't hear. "Whether you like it or not."

Gemma closed her eyes and then nodded. There was no convincing him out of it. If there was one thing she learned about this group, it was their addiction to danger. None of them would confess to anything so ludicrous, but it was written in their history and strung through their DNA. She knew all about Ron and Hermione, and their best friend Harry Potter. She knew all about their adventures at the legendary school of witchcraft and wizardry.

Part of her wondered what Harry Potter had been like. She heard only good things about him. He was courageous and compassionate. It was no wonder Ron had grown so fond of him, during their time together at school. Then there was Hermione — without whom they would never have made it through any of their adventures. Gemma admired Hermione Granger. Gemma was also aware of Hermione's past with Ron. The pair had harboured feelings for one another during their later teenaged years. But the death of their best friend — and simultaneous victory of Tom — separated them and in that separation, the romance between Draco and Hermione came to be.

Personally, she loved the story between Draco and Hermione.

But their story was not finished, as they were not yet back together. She looked to the lounge and saw them standing on opposite sides of the room, gearing up and throwing subtle glances at each other when they thought nobody was looking. It was beyond adorable, and she hoped with all her heart that they would find their precious girl.

The group was incomplete without its star player — without Cissy.

Severus cleared his throat, bringing everyone to the centre of the lounge to discuss their plans. Through rest and care, he'd recovered immensely overnight and managed to convince the others he was fine to fight, much to the dismay of his worried girlfriend.

"All right," Severus broke through, gaining their full attention. "Here's the plan," he started. "The Forbes castle is rumoured to be hidden underwater, in a loch as dark as the night sky —"

"Underwater?" Ron repeated, perplexed. "How is that possible?"

Louise stifled the chuckles that tickled her throat. "Until you hit the trigger."

The redheaded wizard's mouth formed an 'o' shape, and he retreated. "I'm guessing the castle rises from the water once you hit this so-called trigger."

Severus nodded. "The castle is sealed under numerous protective spells, making it impossible for water to penetrate the barriers."

"Do we know where to find the loch?" Hermione asked, taking notes on a sheet of parchment.

"In the archives, I found several journal entries belonging to Geraldine Forbes, and in those entries she wrote about a loch in the eastern side of the wizarding settlement in Edinburgh," Draco offered. "It's not the loch that's hard to find. It's the trigger."

"Is it guarded by a password?" Ron ventured, speaking quietly this time around.

Hermione scrunched her mouth to the side, in thought. "I'm thinking it's more of physical trigger — a tree or perhaps a landmark of some sort."

"There's no way to know, until we get there," Severus continued, withdrawing something from his cloak. It was a single vial of Polyjuice Potion. "We'll need to disguise ourselves as soon as we arrive."

The team nodded in unison.

"Wait —" Gemma stepped forth, looking more nervous than she sounded. "If you activate the trigger, you'll lose the element of surprise."

"She's right," Draco affirmed.

Hermione showed support, as well. "There must be another way to do this."

"There is," Ron spoke up, suddenly. "We swim."

There was a moment of bewilderment amongst the others. It appeared none of them had thought to simply swim to the castle. It was clearly a far way down, but they had magic on their side. Plus, all of them could swim. Ron himself was a fantastic swimmer. There was only one problem in his otherwise sound suggestion.

"How do we penetrate the underwater barriers without flooding the castle?" Draco asked.

Louise was the first to speak up. "I'm sure there's some sort of underwater airlock for emergencies."

Ron arched an eyebrow. "And you know this…how?"

"The school I attended had an underwater facility to observe merpeople," she explained, quite casually at that.

Severus didn't look half surprised as the others. "It's decided then," he announced, looking to each of them. "Gear up, and prepare for one hell of a swim."

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I'm excited to post the next chapter. It's going to be a long one.**

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	12. Liquid Smoke and Gillyweed

**A/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter! **

Draco stared into the black, murky water. It looked like liquid smoke — sinister and opaque. He wondered what creatures roamed these waters, and most important, whether or not he would be able to see them. His attention drifted several paces backwards, where the others stood discussing the game-plan. Ron was the strongest swimmer, which meant he would lead the first heat: himself and Draco. Hermione was the second strongest, which meant she would lead the second heat: herself, Louise and Severus.

"I think gillyweed is our best option," Hermione voiced, glancing around to gauge their reactions. It appeared everyone was in agreement. "This way we can still use our wands, should the need arise."

"Let's hope it doesn't," Ron added, stripping off his shirt in preparation for the swim.

There were scars on his body, undoubtedly from his monthly transformations. The scars were all risen and shiny, like the one Fenrir had given Draco. But Ron's scars were different in that Draco knew they were self-inflicted. If a werewolf had no humans to prey on during transformation, it was forced to attack itself or engage in battle with another animal. Wolfsbane helped some, but it was no cure.

Severus reached into his things and handed gillyweed to all of them. It was slimy and green, and looked like a bundle of rat tails. Draco remembered gillyweed from his fourth year at Hogwarts. Potter used it during the Triwizard Tournament, which also happened to be underwater. It took place in The Black Lake and involved the defeat of water demons called grindylows and powerful, sentient beasts called merpeople.

"What are you waiting for?" Ron asked, looking directly at him.

Draco was still fully clothed, whereas Ron was already in his swim trunks.

The fair-haired wizard slipped away from the group and readied himself, clad in a pair of black swim trunks. The others were changed as well. Severus and Louise, he'd barely noticed. But the last member of their group — Hermione — was in a sensible, yet alluring number.

She tossed a look at him. "What is it?"

"N — Nothing," he stuttered. "Just — nothing."

There was a firm arch in her brow, but also a touch of colour on her cheeks. "Good luck out there," she wished him.

Draco breathed in and out, already worried for her safety. She was a good swimmer, but this wasn't some backyard pool like the one they had in Tuscany. It was dangerous. The look on her face, however, showed she knew danger and how to handle it.

"Remember to send an alert via wand receptor, should you encounter any troubles along the way," Severus reminded them, having repeated these words several times since their journey began.

The group nodded.

"Ready?" Ron asked, already holding the gillyweed up to his open mouth.

Draco just barely gave him a look of approval, before his red-haired comrade swallowed the slimy plant and dove straight into the water. It took less than a second for Draco to follow suit, and when he did, the cold, murky loch swallowed him whole, as if he'd entered a new dimension. The water was just as opaque as he'd imagined. He could only see about five or six feet ahead. This minor setback, however, was not his primary concern.

As soon as he swallowed the gillyweed, an indescribable feeling erupted around his neck, fingers and toes. The change was instant. One second, he was breathing air from overtop the lake and the next second he was breathing underwater, like a fish. He felt along his neck with his newly webbed fingers and found gills. It was surreal. But there was no time to marvel over these changes.

Ron tapped him on the shoulder, also sporting some gills, and motioned for them to move forward.

Draco gave him what he hoped looked like a nod, and followed him deeper and deeper into the loch.

It was their duty to clear the path and see what was actually in the loch. The group had decided on a five minute gap between heats, bearing in mind that Severus was still not at his best and that Louise was asthmatic. It was no matter. Hermione would keep a good eye on them. She had apparently been on some sort of swim team before joining Hogwarts, and coached younger teams during past summers.

Thus far, the first heat hadn't encountered anything apart from more smoky water, which appeared to grow in opacity the further they ventured. The light from above grew dark and distant. The water was dim. The water was cold. The water made the roots of his hair tingle with uncertainty.

It was chilling.

Draco could just barely distinguish the pale outline of Ron's webbed feet — when suddenly, something wrapped around his own feet and pulled.

* * *

A strong wind rustled through the trees and the grass, and her hair. She hoped, for some reason, the water would be warmer, but knew this not to be the case. Hermione glanced back at the other two and nodded, before all three of them swallowed their gillyweed and dove into the water. It was difficult to see under the veil of darkness, but she did manage to catch sight of her newly webbed hands and feet. Visions of Harry in the second task of the Triwizard Tournament soared through her memory scope. He managed to complete his task, without even knowing how to swim. This gave her hope for being able to find the castle.

As soon as her skin made contact with the water, however, something vibrated on her hip. Hermione glanced down, having just broken into a nice, even swim, and found her wand vibrating with great force.

Someone had sent an alert.

Someone was in trouble.

She glanced back and found Louise and Severus checking their wands as well. This meant one thing.

Hermione swam fast and hard, sensing her comrades close behind. She had a feeling there were creatures in these waters, as there were in The Black Lake near Hogwarts, but Draco and Ron could handle some grindylows and merpeople. They weren't children. They were grown men — both Aurors and one a werewolf. There must have been something else in the water, something powerful.

Her hair rippled behind her, as she continued. Had she swam this without the help of gillyweed, she would surely have grown tired by then. But another bonus of using the slimy green plant was a boost in resistance and overall fluidity. Her muscles were now designed to swim these waters.

She swam deeper and deeper, thinking distantly of whether or not it was Ron or Draco in trouble. Her money was on both. Otherwise they would never have sent out an alert.

The deeper she swam, the harder it was to see. But through the corner of her eyes, she spotted something in the distance. It was shiny and appeared to be falling. The brunette swam towards it, and immediately recognized the rubies and the hilt and especially the engraving along the sharp, silver blade.

Hermione grasped it with both hands and marvelled.

It was a sword, but not just any sword. It was the sword of Godric Gryffindor, sinking down the loch, coming to her aid as it had for Harry in the Chamber of Secrets, as it had for Ron during their journey to find and destroy the Horcruxes, and as it had for Neville in the midst of the Battle of Hogwarts. But there was one difference from those instances to this one. For Hermione, the sword had not been pulled from the Sorting Hat.

But she had no time to go over details and analyze the situation.

Severus and Louise swam to her side, having caught up during her moment of discovery. Their eyes scanned the blade in her hands and without a single line of communication, they continued onward.

It happened then, about five seconds later.

Hermione could hear something underwater. It wasn't a scream. It was a strangled, raspy sound, followed by movement. Something was there. She could feel it move. She could hear it hiss.

The witch tossed a look to Severus and Louise. Severus appeared just as anxious, but Louise took it one step further and looked completely and utterly horrified. She met eyes with Hermione and gestured ahead of them. Judging by the look on her face, she had spotted something, and as Hermione turned to follow the direction of her finger, she felt an all-encompassing wave of fear pass over her.

Severus pushed past the two girls, in a hurry, and swam forward with his wand extended. He casted several high-impact spells that rippled through the water at fast speed, and made narrow contact with the creature ahead.

It wasn't a grindylow.

It wasn't a merperson.

It wasn't even a Giant Squid.

Hermione screamed just then, or at least tried to. All that escaped her mouth were bubbles. She could see them. She could see Ron, looking beaten and tired, and bleeding from various places, as he tried to do as Severus was doing. She could also see Draco, face as pale as the day she found him at the Institute, fresh after Greyback's attack. At first sight, she would have pegged him to be dead. But his eyes shot directly to hers as she swam to him, sword in both hands.

Something was wrapped around him — an extension of a long, reptilian, serpent-like creature. It was one of five extensions, one of five _heads_. Hermione knew that creature. Hermione had read about that creature. It was enormous. It was powerful. It also had nothing to do with Scotland, but she made sure to ask these questions later.

* * *

It happened fast. One second, he had been leading the way, swimming, determined to reach the castle. The next second, something moved behind him and dragged Draco by the feet. By that point, Ron had neither seen nor identified the creature. But he sent out an alert, feeling heaviness in his bones. The water was different down there. It wasn't murky or dim. It was lit by a blueish beacon, from where an unbelievably large, five-headed serpent had found them.

Ron tried to jinx it, to push it back, to do _anything — _but his efforts were wasted. It seemed the more he tried to harm the beast, the stronger it grew and the harder it fought back.

The four free heads attacked him one-by-one and sometimes two-by-two. They surged at him, knocking him back and smashing into him with incredible force. It took him about two minutes to learn how to evade this gargantuan creature. But the damage was too deep. His energy withered away. He could see Draco being tossed around like a rag-doll, and wondered if the wizard was even alive by that point.

It took around ten minutes after the initial attack, for the second heat to arrive. First, he spotted Severus, shooting spells and evading as best he could, as he rushed to Ron's aid. The man was injured, and still managed to be an incredible asset. He pressed his wand to Ron's temple and revived his energy with a simple incantation. It helped some, but the strain in his muscles and the trail of crimson he left behind from the wounds on his chest, neck and face were still pounding in agony.

Second, he spotted Louise and Hermione. The girls rushed to Draco, and he thought to swim over and either help them or stop them before the beast noticed them, but something in Hermione's hands caught his attention. She wasn't wielding a wand like them. In her hands, she held a sword — the sword of Gryffindor. He watched in shock and awe, as she swam fast and hard to her ex-husband and with all her might, sliced him free from the Hydra's grasp. The beast shrieked in pain and sent two heads surging in her direction, but both Severus and Ron managed to stop the heads with a combined stunning spell. It didn't hold long, given the overwhelming power of the beast, but it held long enough for Hermione to swim over and slice another head off.

Neither of the heads grew back, given the magical properties of the sword.

Louise swam to Draco, helping him move away from the battle to regain some of his energy. The fair-haired wizard shook his head and gestured for them to help the others. He clearly was not in the right shape to fight, but there was no time to debate. The pair came to Severus and Ron's aid.

By then, they had developed a strategy.

The four of them combined their magic into a single beam of energy that stunned each head of the monster one-by-one, leaving a five second window for Hermione to wield the magical silver blade and cut off head after head. She moved fast and fluidly. They were slowed down every so often, when one of the remaining heads would surge at the group or at her, but their collective effort proved greater and more difficult to evade.

It appeared they were well on their way to defeating the beast, withering it down to just one head. But the moment they shot another stunning beam, the last remaining head dodged the attack and instead of coming straight at them, surged directly at Hermione and knocked the wind out of the girl.

She was knocked back about ten feet, visibly unconscious from the unexpected blow. A flurry of nerves shot through Ron's bloodstream, as he watched in horror. The sword slipped from her limp grasp, sinking deep and deeper and deeper into the loch.

It was decided.

Ron exchanged a quick look with Draco and together, they rocketed towards Hermione as though their lives depended on it. Both Severus and Louise distracted the last head with more spells and more evasive maneuvers, providing enough time for Draco to retrieve Hermione's unconscious form by the arm, as Ron swam past him, in order to retrieve the sword.

The red-haired wizard disappeared into the darkness, striking fear in his comrades until returning moments later with the sword in his hands.

Without another moment to spare, the others combined their magic into another beam, for what they hoped would be the final blow.

The beam made full contact with the Hydra, holding it sill for about three seconds, as Ron swung the mighty sword of Gryffindor and chopped off the last obstruction in their underwater battle. The Hydra shrieked its final breath, before the head sunk down to meet its fallen brothers and sisters. The body followed, leaving the group to watch in esteem, over what they had just done.

* * *

Draco held her close, as he followed the others deeper into the loch, towards the blueish beacon that lit their path. In the midst of battle, it was difficult to tell, but the blueish beacon was actually a marker for the entrance into the castle. It was an underwater cave, where he presumed the Hydra slept. Part of him wondered what a Hydra was even doing in the middle of Scotland, but he figured the Forbes' had placed it there as defence against intruders — intruders like them.

Louise swam ahead, as she was the least exhausted from battle, and gave them a nod the moment she swam into the cave. Thankfully, there were no more creatures waiting for them. The coast was clear.

The group entered the cave, traveling deeper and deeper until the gillyweed began to wear off. It usually lasted about an hour in freshwater but due to the physical exertion from their battle, the time had been cut down to about forty minutes. Draco glanced down, noticing Hermione was also losing her gills. This realization lit a fire beneath him and without warning, he swam past Louise and took an enormous breath of air, as he reached lung-friendly territory.

The others followed, gasping and falling to the moss-covered rock surface.

"A Hydra?" Louise coughed, glancing at each of them with horror in her eyes. "A _fucking _Hydra?"

Ron shared her sentiment, rolling to his back with his chest heaving. "How about some dittany?"

Their former Potions Master rifled through his things, which he had sealed with magic to protect from getting wet, and handed everyone essence of dittany to heal their wounds. Ron grabbed his with urgency and smacked it over his forehead.

Louise handed her portion back to Severus, as she was not injured, not nearly as bad as the others anyway.

Severus then made his way to Draco and Hermione, with worried lines streaking his face and forehead. "How is she?"

"She's breathing," Draco answered, thankful even for that. The Hydra had surged at her with more force than any of the previous blows. It was a wonder she'd even survived.

"Here." Severus handed him essence of dittany and a vial of purplish substance. "This potion should revive her."

Draco gave him a look of thanks and uncorked the vial, using his free hand to part her lips and slip the tip of the vial between them. It did nothing. His eyes were glued to hers, waiting for them to open, waiting for those bronze orbs to stare back at him with as much life and warmth as he remembered.

"Come on, Granger," he whispered, so that the others couldn't hear. "We need you. _I _need you."

There was a hitch in his chest. This was all too familiar. This moment, hovering over her with the threat of death inching closer and closer. Draco closed his eyes and prayed for an answer to the looming question. _Will she survive?_ There had been no response, when he had asked this question five years ago — not a verbal response, anyway. She had merely opened her eyes and greeted him with her usual quick wit, but this time around, there was no such banter between them. She was still unconscious as ever, with the subtle rise and fall of her chest growing slower as each second passed.

She didn't respond, but someone else did. It was a voice Draco recognized, a voice he didn't think he would ever hear again.

_There is one thing greater, and more powerful than magic. _

**A/N: Bonus points to anyone who can guess the person behind the voice and what he or she is referring to, when speaking of something greater, and more powerful than magic! **

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I was thinking of involving Nessie, but they aren't in Loch Ness, so it didn't make sense. I mean...granted...involving the Hydra makes even less sense, but whaaatever haha. **

**Stay tuned for the next chapter! **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	13. Fields and Friendship

A gentle breeze traveled through her hair, tickling the loose strands around her ears and causing her eyes to flutter open. It was bright outside. The sun was out, shining down on her as though it were mid-July. Hermione breathed in, filling her lungs with warmth and happiness. She hadn't felt this way in ages, so light and carefree, with not a single stress in the world. It was like she had traveled back in time, to the days preceding her acceptance into Hogwarts, preceding the ever-looming darkness that was Lord Voldemort, preceding the Order's defeat, and most of all, preceding the death of her best friend.

She blinked once, and practically floated into upright position. There were flowers everywhere. She was in the middle of a field, with lavender flowers and other greenery as far as the eye could see. There were hills and trees, and even mountains in the distance. It can't possibly have been Scotland, not the part of Scotland she had last seen.

"Hermione," he spoke, capturing her attention from about six feet behind. "I'm over here."

She turned, recognizing that voice. It made the warmth in her body return and the ache in her chest subside. Her eyes found him then, over her shoulder. He was tall, dark-haired and had the most brilliant green eyes she had ever seen. The smile on his face made her heart swell, almost as much as the glare on his circular lenses. But the most defining characteristic was the lightening bolt-shaped scar on his forehead.

"_Harry_," she breathed, rising to her feet with her hands clapped firmly over her mouth. There were tears in her eyes. There had to be tears in her eyes. She ran to him, colliding against his chest the moment he extended his arms to her.

Finally, she could breathe again.

The pair embraced, wrapping their arms around the other as though they had spent no time apart. Hermione felt through his messy black hair, doing her best to hold back the sobs that threatened to escape. It had been so long. It had been so, so difficult. She inhaled and exhaled, holding him so tight she was sure there would be bruises. But he didn't appear to mind. His embrace was equally, if not more powerful.

Hermione choked out a single sob, unable to hold back, knowing her face was covered in tears. They welled up around her eyes and simply fell, seeping into the fabric of Harry's jumper.

Their embrace lasted long, longer than she would ever know, but the questions poking at her skull were beginning to get chaotic. She reluctantly let go of him and found tears in his eyes as well.

She stared deep into those eyes, recognizing the relief, the worry and the love. It had been years, but it would take more than that for her to forget a single detail about this young man.

"Is this real?" she finally asked.

Harry looked to her, allowing her passage into his thoughts. "_This_," he started, gesturing around them, to the lavender field. "Is your creation."

She blinked once, scared that he would disappear if her eyes were closed for too long. "Are _you _real?"

"I am," he told her, still smiling. "But I'm still dead."

The softness in her expression vanished, and a sudden wave of anxiety flooded over her. "Does — Does that mean I'm —"

"Not quite," he interjected, nodding his head to the left and motioning for them to have a stroll. She followed his lead, walking in silence for several soundless moments until he continued. "I'm here to guide you back, because as much as I would love to have you here, there is someone down there, someone who needs you more than I do."

"My daughter," she whispered.

The Chosen One faced her, as though this information was not new to him. "She's a beautiful girl. I wish I could have known her before I died."

Hermione breathed in, feeling fresh tears collect around her eyes. "I've told her about you."

"I know," he smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder. "So has her father."

The warmth in her chest multiplied, as did the nervousness. This was the looming question that had plagued her for the past five years. She always imagined this moment, the moment Harry came down on her for marrying the Ferret Prince. But something about the manner in which the Chosen One was looking at her, suggested this not to be the case. He looked…proud. He was…beaming.

Harry gave her a knowing look. "I've been watching over you all this time — Ron, as well."

"Have you?" she asked, looking to him.

"I have," he confirmed. "From the moment I fell in the Battle of Hogwarts to now."

Hermione thought distantly of the events that occurred five years ago. It had been a difficult time. She had gone undercover and served under Voldemort. She had watched innocent people die and done nothing. The girl that existed during the Battle of Hogwarts would not have stood by and watched that happen, without trying to stop it. She had changed since Harry knew her. She was marked.

Her eyes drifted to the tattoo on her left forearm, as did Harry's. "I've tried to remove it," she whispered. "It won't disappear. I — I know you're disappointed in me for doing it but — but —"

"Disappointed?" Harry repeated, pausing mid-step. "Look at me," he instructed, tilting her chin up with his finger and then brushing the hair from his forehead. "I'm marked, too…but this mark doesn't define me, and the mark on your forearm doesn't define you."

She exhaled, glancing down at the ground. "It's different —"

"It's _not _different," he interjected. "Because we're both marked in other ways, ways more powerful than dark magic."

Hermione faced him again, perplexed. "What do you mean?"

"Dumbledore explained to me, a long time ago, that I was marked by my mother's love. You're marked, as well," Harry explained, searching through her eyes for understanding. "That's why I'm here talking to you, because someone down there is grasping your life force so tight that even death can't get a hold of you."

His words reverberated within her mind. She closed her eyes and inhaled, taking a moment to think, to make sense of the universe. "I need to go back."

Harry smiled. "You do."

"I just — I can't leave knowing you're here."

"I'm wherever you need me to be," he told her. "Just call my name and I'll be there to listen. I promise."

Hermione turned to him, familiarizing her eyes with the sight of her courageous best friend, with the one person she thought she would never lay eyes on again. He wasn't the same as when she had last seen him. He looked older, wiser. Even so, he was still young, too young to have died so soon.

She moved towards him and captured him in another embrace, feeling tears slide down her cheeks. "I've missed you so damned much."

"I've missed _you_," he responded, holding her tight. "Ron, too."

"I think he misses you the most," Hermione choked out, caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

Harry shared her laugh, thinking of their red-haired comrade. "Give him my congratulations, will you?"

"I will," she promised.

"And congratulations to you, too."

Hermione paused, separating from him. "For what?"

The Boy Who Lived gave her a look that said it all. "You'll see."

**A/N: I apologize for making this so corny lol. Anyway, thanks for reading! Don't forget to tell me what you think.**

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	14. Clocks and Curses

**A/N: A couple short chapters ahead. Sorry! The last few will be longer, I promise. **

There was nervousness in her chest. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't focus. The others had left hours ago, and already visions of disaster were ricocheting within her skull. It was one thing to watch her husband leave for work every morning, knowing he worked a high-risk job. It was something completely different to watch him leave on a death mission.

Gemma had faith in him, and the others, but the doubts were beginning to wear down on her. It reminded her of her old life, in the 40s, when Britain was still at war with Germany. It reminded her of the bombings, of not knowing whether or not her loved ones would return once they left home.

She collapsed onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands. Time simply would not pass. The clock propped on the mantle _ticked _and _tocked _at unbelievably slow rate. She was sure it paused several times, teasing her and testing her patience. The young woman pushed herself up and moved to the entrance, glancing at the door every down and then.

She paced the room, holding her fingers to her mouth, feeling her teeth chatter from all the tension.

It was then, that a sound came from the door.

Gemma spun around, holding her breath and then racing to the door, making motion to peer through the eyehole before the structure slammed open. She gasped, falling to the hardwood floor with a thud as someone walked through the door.

An indescribable feeling set in, tugging at her chest muscles and causing the blood in her veins to travel at an unparalleled rate.

"Figures she would forget to change the lock," Nott remarked, pocketing the key Hermione had given him a couple months prior.

Gemma scrambled to her feet. "_What_ are you doing here?"

His attention fell squarely on her, and then he kicked the door shut. "It's good to see you, too."

"You need to leave," she told him, folding her arms. "_Now_."

Nott sighed, tilting to his head to the side and giving her a knowing look. "I don't think you're at liberty to tell me what to do," he started, moving past her and into the lounge. "Besides, I'm not here to harm you."

"Then why are you here?" Gemma asked, following him, trying her best to remain calm and composed.

"Because as much as I would love to get revenge on Hermione for treating me like shit for the past year, I would rather not be part of the ambush."

The girl froze. "Ambush?"

"Yes," he confirmed, finding a seat at the kitchen table. "There's an attack planned about…an hour from now."

Gemma swallowed hard. "How — How does your side know where Hermione and the others have gone?"

"Please," Nott scoffed, facing her. "Castle Forbes is the most obvious choice. Besides, there are spies all over the wizarding settlement in Edinburgh."

"But —"

"Don't worry," he furthered. "Your husband, along with Severus and his girlfriend, will not be harmed. The focus is on Draco and Hermione."

She breathed in, dumbfounded. "What's going to happen to them?"

Nott glanced down, as though something close to remorse coursed through his bloodstream. "It doesn't matter. It can't be stopped."

There was bewilderment in Gemma's eyes. She stared at him, searching through his face for an answer to the question on her mind. The Muggle sat down beside him and practically gawked. "You tried to help them," she deduced, amazed beyond words or recognition. "I _knew _you weren't crooked."

He tossed a look at her. "Of course I'm crooked. I played a part in their daughter's kidnapping."

"Elaborate," she challenged.

"Why should I bother?"

Gemma gave him a knowing look. "Because you care."

Nott laughed with bitterness. "Look where caring has gotten me. It was either I help Leanne or Cissy dies. There was no choice to make, but it doesn't matter anymore. Hermione thinks I'm the scum of the earth, and I am. I _was _under the Imperius Curse. I might still be."

"What about the potion?" Gemma asked, referring to what happened in the vault. "Severus gave you the potion and it nearly killed you, because you weren't under the curse."

The wizard reached into his robes and retrieved that same vial with the seal still on. "You mean this potion?" he ventured, watching the shock tug at her facial muscles. "I switched the potions when Severus wasn't looking. The one I took was nothing, just fake blood."

Gemma exhaled, deeply confused. "How did this happen?"

"It's simple," Nott told her, tossing the vial into the air and then catching it. "I made it to the vault with Severus, slipped away to search for clues and found Leanne. She told me I had a choice to make. She was desperate. She knew the curse would break as soon as I took the potion, but she still needed my help. Like I said, it was either I join her forces or Cissy dies. It — It happened quite fast after that. I returned to Severus and played along for a moment, before taking the fake potion and — and making it seem like I was crooked from the start."

There was pain in Nott's voice. There was pain in his expression, as well. This was the sole reason she knew he wasn't lying.

"By then, Leanne had revealed herself to him and we began to duel. I did what I could to keep him alive without blowing my cover, but — but he was still quite banged up."

"He's fine now," Gemma told him. "I've been helping with his recovery."

Nott turned to her. "What about Hermione?" he asked. "The last time I saw her I — I had to hurt her. I hardly remember it."

"I'm going to assume Leanne was controlling you."

He nodded once. "She's a sadistic bitch. I can't believe I was ever friends with her."

"You were friends?"

"More than that," he answered, in a quiet, barely audible voice. "It was a long time ago."

Gemma ran both hands through her hair, trying to centre her frenzied thoughts. "I don't think I've ever felt this confused," she voiced. "It — It makes some sense, but what I don't understand is why this Leanne girl is so adamant in involving _you. _I mean, she could easily have put another one of us under the Imperius Curse, once Severus broke yours with the real potion, but no. She chose to risk everything to make sure she had _you _and only you."

The pain in Nott's expression deepened, as though he knew something she didn't. His gaze fell to the floor. "She needed me because Draco and Hermione aren't the only ones with a daughter."

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Don't forget to review. **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	15. Little Ones and Liabilities

The walls were thick and darkened with age. It had been a long time since she had been there, in Castle Forbes. The last time she had ventured to such a place was just before her tenth birthday. Richard had taken her there — her uncle — and showed her their family legacy. The castle was ancient and grand. It was rumoured to be the resting place of Rowena Ravenclaw.

But it was now the resting place of someone else. Leanne turned to the little girl in the centre of the room and smiled. "Your parents are here," she told her, watching those hazel eyes regard her with fear. "I can feel them."

The little girl recoiled, practically shaking. "Can — Can I go home now?"

"No," she answered, still smiling as she approached her. "You're the first step in completing the ritual."

The fear in Cissy Malfoy's face deepened. "What ritual?"

Leanne turned to the four-post bed, gaze falling over the _other _little girl in the room. This little girl was different. She wasn't bubbly and adorable. She was a still corpse. Her face, once lively and filled with light, was now hidden beneath the pale mask of death that had taken her some time ago. The only thing that kept her from being reduced to bones and maggots was magic.

"I'd like you to meet my daughter," Leanne introduced, gesturing for Cissy to get up and follow her to the bed.

The littlest Malfoy covered her mouth and nostrils with one hand, gagging from the smell. "She — She's dead!"

"She won't be for much longer," the witch explained, thinking distantly of the many memories she shared with her daughter. "You're lucky you had both your parents to look after you. My daughter, Elizabeth, had only me."

"What about her daddy?" Cissy asked, innocently.

Leanne turned to the girl. "Her father was never in the picture. He was too young. In fact, he didn't even know he had a daughter until earlier this week," she furthered. "I would have preferred not to have involved him at all — since he's been nothing but a liability — but I had to in order to complete my daughter's side of the ritual. Both parents must be present. That's why I've lured yours here, because I need them to complete _your _side."

Cissy stared up at her, confused and terrified. "Are you — Are you going to hurt them?"

"Yes," she answered, kneeling down to meet the little girl at eye level and to brush one of the blonde tendrils from her face. "Don't worry. You'll be long gone before it happens."

**A/N: I know this is confusing, but everything will be explained in the next chapter. You have my word. Thanks for reading! Don't forget to tell me what you think. **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


	16. Kicking Arse and Kissing Girls

**A/N: I know I promised a long chapter, but I had to cut this one a little short and save the majority of it for the next chapter due to pacing and fluidity. It should be up either tonight or tomorrow. Enjoy!**

Gemma listened with horror.

"I — I had a feeling Hermione was still in love with Draco," Nott explained, his eyes planted firmly on the floor. "But none of that bothered me. I'm aware of their history, and always have been. Their relationship wasn't the problem," he continued. "It was ours — the one between myself and Hermione. I know she's suffered over the years, and I sympathize, but in the year that she and I were together, she never once asked me about _my _life, _my _family, or _my _pain." The young man paused, fighting back the emotion that flooded his bloodstream. "I lost people in the war, too. I lost my friends. I lost my home. I lost my father." He exhaled, shakily. "I hate her for never giving me the chance to tell my story, but I would never willingly harm her child. I care for the girl, and I've always wondered what it would be like to have a daughter of my own but what I didn't know was…was…"

There was a moment of silence, and Gemma filled it by reaching over and placing a hand on his shoulder. She wasn't sure if she could trust him, but the feeling in her heart, the impact of seeing someone in pain, was too much to bear.

"Did something happen to your daughter?" she asked.

Nott didn't respond with words. He nodded, just once. The expression on his face turned from grief-stricken to hollow. "Her name is Elizabeth Forbes, and I met her mother, Leanne Forbes, in the summer before my Sixth Year at Hogwarts. I was in Sterling Harbour visiting Draco and our old friend Blaise Zabini. The lads took me to this warehouse party and I — I remember feeling uncomfortable with the idea of going to a party where I would only know two people, but then I saw _her_." His eyes and lips moved with the story, as though he were transported through time. "She was standing about six or seven feet away from me, with bright eyes and long, dark brown hair falling to her shoulders. I swear, the first time I saw her I could feel this — this magnetism. It was the strangest sensation, and I knew right then that I needed more of it."

Gemma visualized the scene, having heard about all these people on numerous occasions.

"But there was one problem," Nott voiced, closing his eyes. "She looked in my direction, smiled at me in a way that filled me with this strange, jittery feeling, and then looked right past me, at Draco. I found out then, that the two of them were dating. Draco introduced us with his arm around her waist and her attention bound to his every word. I could tell she was older than him, so I found her fixation slightly intriguing, but it wasn't all that shocking. By then, I had known Draco for most of my life and it was no secret to me that girls loved him. The girls at school practically fell to their knees whenever he so much as glanced in their direction." He paused again, caught between a sigh and a scoff. "That said, I tried to get Leanne out of my mind, but I couldn't. She was so nice to me. She would speak to me and tell me jokes, and sit with me when the others weren't around. I tried," he repeated. "I tried _so_, so hard."

"But?" Gemma asked, feeling a shift in the story.

Nott waited a long while before carrying on. There was hardness in his eyes, in his very essence. "But one night, about two weeks before I had to go home, she came to me in tears and told me someone had sent her a letter threatening to have her life ruined, should she continue her relationship with Draco. I read the letter and knew in an instant that it was from his parents, both of whom had no idea their son was in a relationship, until then. I tried to comfort Leanne. I tried to assure her the letter meant nothing and that the threats were baseless, but she was so convinced…and I was so unprepared." His expression softened slightly, as he thought back to this moment. "I should have walked away and told Draco about the letter, but I didn't."

Gemma exhaled, having held her breath until then. She knew the end to this story, but the twists and turns intrigued her.

"I asked her what I could do to help, and she answered me with a single request." He swallowed hard, eyes still closed. "_Make me forget_." The manner in which these words grasped his insides — even then, seven years later — spoke volumes that his voice never would. "I kissed her. I gave in to everything I had repressed and kissed her. I betrayed my friend's trust. I betrayed her trust. I — I unknowingly laid out the groundwork for what happened next."

"And what was that?" Gemma dared to ask.

Nott opened his eyes, finally. "I woke up the next morning to an empty bed, and figured Leanne was embarrassed and ashamed about what we had done. Needless to say, I gave her space. It was the least I could do after taking advantage of her during such a difficult time. I — I avoided her the best I could, and she avoided me, but the night before I was meant to leave, I found a note tucked under my door. It was from her, and it basically explained that she had left without telling anyone, and — and —" There was a hitch in his throat. "She told me what happened between us was a mistake."

Gemma breathed in, feeling terrible for him, for some inexplicable reason.

"I didn't know it then, but the reason Leanne left wasn't because she had sex with me. It was because she was pregnant, and she didn't know the father. I — I should have guessed, but I was so young and so naive. I figured she hated me and that was that. I had no idea she was pregnant. I had no idea she was so — so lost and alone and confused. I would have helped her, even if the baby wasn't mine." The pain in his eyes deepened. "But she was gone, and so was her cousin William, who I'm sure you've heard about."

The young Muggle woman nodded, having heard plenty about William Forbes and his involvement in what happened five years prior. "I'm going to assume he helped with the child."

Nott moved his head up and down in confirmation. "She confided in him and he was there for her through the pregnancy, before returning to Sterling Harbour to run his parents' pub about a year later. I guess, during that time, she figured out the child belonged to me."

"But she didn't think you were ready," Gemma ventured.

"Correct, and I wasn't, but I still would have liked to meet this little girl — this — my — my daughter." He spoke the last couple words with an air of disbelief. "I had no idea she existed until Leanne told me in the vault."

Gemma couldn't even begin to imagine what it felt like to have a child. She had discussed having children with her husband, but neither of them were ready for that kind of responsibility. Ron's job as an Auror was very demanding and she was to start medical school in the fall. There was no time for a child. And yet, she still had a weakness for children, for their little feet and their little eyes.

Her heart broke for Nott.

"Has Leanne given you the chance to meet Elizabeth?" she asked.

"No, meeting her is impossible," he answered swiftly, pale in the face. "And that's the reason all of this is happening."

Gemma looked to him, curious. "What do you mean?"

"The reason Leanne kidnapped Cissy is because she needs another little girl's life in order to complete a ritual involving — involving our daughter," Nott elaborated, as though the words brought him physical pain. "Leanne tricked me in the vault, when she said Cissy would die if I didn't join with her. That was never the case, because Cissy was meant to die all along. It's the only way Elizabeth can be brought back to life."

"She — She's _dead_?"

There was a twitch in Nott's lip at the last word. It was news to him, as much as it was to everyone else. "Elizabeth died about six months ago, from incurable illness, and since then Leanne has been maddened with guilt and with grief. She's not the same person I met in Sterling Harbour seven years ago. She's changed. She — She terrifies me."

"I'm so sorry," Gemma voiced, motioning to hug him and then stopping. "You need to do something. You need to stop her."

"I plan on it," Nott answered, pouring himself a glass of Firewhiskey and pounding it in one go. "As fucked up as it sounds, Cissy has been more of a daughter to me than Elizabeth ever was, and right now my heart is telling me to save that blonde-haired demon."

Gemma stared at him, perplexed. "Then what are you waiting for?"

* * *

The darkened abyss that had enveloped her was beginning to fade and in its wake, she could hear voices. They were familiar and filled with haste. She could hear Louise and Severus and Ron, as well. But there was one voice left out, replaced by a pair of hands that stroked the hair from her face, as her eyes flickered open.

Hermione blinked, several times, distinguishing her surroundings and realizing the group had made it out of the water alive. The hydra was defeated, and they were now in some sort of underwater cave.

"What — What happened?" she asked, feeling dizzy as she sat up.

Ron was the first to speak. "You found this," he voiced, holding up the sword of Godric Gryffindor. "And kicked major arse _is what happened_."

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Be sure to tell me your thoughts. **

**Cheers**

**xo. **


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